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Title: Adrift on the Amazon
Author: Leo E. Miller
Release date: November 28, 2025 [eBook #77361]
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1923
Credits: Chuck Greif & The Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADRIFT ON THE AMAZON ***
[Illustration: New cuts were made in the trees for the next day's
supply.
[_Page 136_
]
ADRIFT
ON THE AMAZON
BY
LEO E. MILLER
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
1923
COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY
CHARLES SCRIBNER’S SONS
Printed in the United States of America
[Illustration]
TO
ALL READERS
WHO HAVE A WHOLESOME LIKING
FOR STORIES
OF ADVENTURE AND THE GREAT OUTDOORS
PREFACE
The Amazon! Who has not been thrilled at the mere mention of the words?
For the name of the world’s mightiest river suggests not only vast
expanses of muddy water, but also the jungle-clad shores and wild
hinterland where nature seems to have run riot in the development of
strange and interesting vegetation and animal life, and of tribes of
savages but little known and less understood. There is romance and
adventure to be found in each mile of its yellow flood or gloomy
thickets. But to only a few is given the privilege of lifting the veil
of mystery that hangs over the Amazon country and of exploring its
hidden retreats.
“Adrift on the Amazon” is the story of a youth’s struggles against the
seemingly insurmountable difficulties that confronted the intrepid
wanderer into the Amazon wilderness.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. FIGHTING JONES 1
II. DAVID LEAVES HOME 13
III. THE AMAZON 21
IV. ROGER’S WORK 36
V. A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 51
VI. HARPOONING A RIVER MONSTER 64
VII. WHEN THE RIVER RAN RIOT 78
VIII. THE ROAD TO LAS PALMAS 91
IX. THE BEAST 104
X. THE ASCENT OF THE UPPER AMAZON 115
XI. IN THE RUBBER FOREST 128
XII. A BATTLE WITH A CROCODILE 140
XIII. ADRIFT IN THE FOREST 154
XIV. THE RESCUE FROM THE ANT ARMY 168
XV. THE CHARGE OF THE INDIANS 178
XVI. THE BATTLE IN THE JUNGLE 191
XVII. THE TERROR OF THE ISLAND 203
XVIII. WHEN THE WATER RAN HIGH 216
XIX. THE BROWN MEN OF THE JUNGLE 229
XX. THE DRIFTING ENDS 242
ILLUSTRATIONS
New cuts were made in the trees for the next day’s supply _Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
A huge silvery form ... leaped out of the water, rolled
and wallowed convulsively, and sank from sight 74
He delivered thrust after thrust with his right at the vulnerable
neck and throat 150
Again facing toward the ... white men ... he grasped
the arrow in both hands, snapped the shaft in two ...
and threw the pieces into the river 232
ADRIFT
ON THE AMAZON
CHAPTER I
FIGHTING JONES
To David’s friends he was commonly known as “Fighting Jones”; but this
name carried nothing of discredit with it; for, though the title had
been earned by the not infrequent use of two good fists, the encounters
had always been occasioned by a righteous cause--in protection of
someone who was unable to defend his or her own interest.
The trouble was that the one higher up, the final authority as it were,
had always decided against him. Sometimes words of sympathy, even
approbation, had softened the rebuke that invariably followed each
altercation; but in the final summing up he had never escaped the
penalty.
David was downcast. It seemed as if the bottom had dropped out of
everything. And as he mentally reviewed the events of the past ten
minutes and speculated upon their consequences he knew that at last he
had reached the very end of his tether. He had arrived at the parting of
the ways; a break was plainly in sight; and at last he meant to assert
himself.
His determined nature began to show itself so long ago as David could
remember and probably before that. But he could recall the first
difficulty in the kindergarten when one of the older and larger boys
took advantage of his small size to deprive him of some cherished
plaything. He never forgot that fight, nor the punishment he received at
the hand of a stern father.
Later, years later, in high school, there had been the trouble when the
principal had rebuked Miss Palmer, the instructor in Latin, before the
whole class. The principal was a big, gruff man whose main attributes
were to look stern at all times in an effort to instill discipline and
to rejoice secretly when others showed signs of fear. He ruled by
intimidation. Miss Palmer was meek and frail and when the lordly Mr.
Davison assailed her she began to cry. That was too much for David. He
calmly arose and informed the surprised Mr. Davison that he would never
see any woman mistreated like that and if he did not stop at once and
apologize he would knock his block off. Several of his classmates now
came to his assistance. That precipitated a row. Result--David as
ringleader of the mutiny was dismissed. Discipline had to be maintained.
He worried through school and college somehow or other. Then was forced
into business by his father and tried hard to make good and was
progressing in a satisfactory, so he thought, if not brilliant manner
until----
Wellman, the chief engineer, was passing through the draughting room.
David, busy at his board, was not even aware of his presence until he
heard a muffled cough in back of him.
“Good morning, Mr. Wellman,” he said pleasantly, turning to greet his
chief.
“How are the plans coming along?” the latter said abruptly. “I want to
have the blue-prints struck off this afternoon.”
“They will be ready in an hour,” David returned. “I am just finishing
the terrace.”
“Let me see!” Wellman adjusted his tortoise shell spectacles. “What
scale?”
“Quarter inch.”
“What? Quarter inch?” One would have thought Wellman had been shot, the
way he roared. “Didn’t I tell you to make it half inch?”
“I am sorry. I must have misunderstood. I will do them over.”
“Impossible. The superintendent must have the blue-prints tonight.”
“That is impossible too. I cannot do two days’ work in a few hours and
do it right.”
“You’ll never know anything.” Wellman bellowed, while all the others in
the office turned to see and hear what was going on.
“Now, look here,” David interrupted. “There is no excuse for your acting
like that. You passed my table several times both yesterday and the day
before and it seems to me as if you should have noticed the mistake
then. Besides, I am sure you said quarter inch scale to begin with.”
“That’s right! that’s right! Blame it on me. You think you can do as you
please because your father is president of this concern.” The chief was
talking louder than ever.
“If it were not for your age I’d thrash you until you took that back.”
“Never mind my gray hair. Never mind my glasses; I’ll take them off.
Here I am. Go to it. You are a privileged person around here. Do
anything you like.”
Instead of replying, David threw down his drawing instruments and left
the room. He headed straight for his father’s office. Arrived there he
was told by a secretary to sit down in the ante-room; his father had
given orders not to admit him until he should ring for him.
So! He knew about it already! Wellman had forestalled him by using the
telephone. It was just as well that he had. His father would have the
chief’s version of the affair and be ready to hear the other side of it.
A buzzer sounded and the secretary nodded to him to enter.
For a moment the elder Jones did not notice him. Then he turned abruptly
in his chair and faced his son.
“What have you got to say?” he asked, not unkindly and rather sadly.
“Wellman told you what happened, I suppose.”
“Yes. He just called up. I want to hear your side of the matter.”
David gave an accurate account of the occurrence from beginning to end,
while his father listened resignedly.
“Wellman is an old and valued employe, but I think this time he went
too far. Disregarding the fact that you are my son, I am inclined to
believe that you were not at fault--in fact, I am rather proud of the
way you handled the situation. Still, that does not settle the issue.
That office is too small for you and Wellman; so Wellman will have to
go.”
David could not believe his ears and for a moment he was speechless.
“You don’t mean that you are going to fire him?” he asked finally.
“Yes. He went too far. The two of you would always be at odds after this
and it would demoralize the whole department. I am sorry, but Wellman
will receive his notice today.”
“I don’t want to see him lose his job. He is old and would have a hard
time to find another. Why not keep him and let me out?”
“Because I want you to learn this business thoroughly; you may be called
upon to take my place some day. You are just starting life. Your welfare
is my first consideration.”
David saw his chance at last.
“If that is true,” he quickly interposed, “don’t start me on the wrong
track. I do not want to stay in this business. I hate it. I tried to
make good only to please you. If you are really thinking of my welfare,
let me pick out my own work.”
“What is wrong with this? It offers most unusual opportunities for great
and lasting success.”
“I know, but somehow or other I don’t seem to fit in. I dislike the city
and all business. I want to go away where there is room to expand and
to learn big things of another kind.”
“Remember the possibilities I just mentioned. You might some day erect a
building taller than any of today or build a cathedral that would be a
monument to your genius.”
“I would rather plow with a tractor and sow wheat; or herd cattle; or
raise pigs than build anything no matter how great. I could put my whole
heart and soul into that work and enjoy it. I want space to do my
thinking and to develop in. I want green grass under my feet and a blue
sky overhead. It is too crowded here. There are just as big things to be
done in one place as in another.”
“Good gracious! Who put all that into your head? Or did you read it in
some book?”
“It has just been growing on me and with me. I must get away from here.
Let me work out my own future.”
“Suppose I should refuse to listen any further.”
“Then I am afraid I should go anyway, not right now, perhaps, but at
some future time. The thought of all this is bigger than I am, and some
day, soon, it would get the better of me and I should be compelled to
go.”
“Well, well!” His father was obviously worried. “So you have made up
your mind. You refuse to go back to your work here?”
“I should rather not. And, let Wellman stay.”
“I’ll see. Now you go straight home and wait for me there. This thing
will have to be settled one way or the other.”
As David left the building his mind was filled with so many things that
it was impossible to think clearly on any one of them. Two things kept
recurring to him, however, because they had been so unexpected. The
first was that his father had taken sides with him in the controversy,
had admitted that he was right and that Wellman was in the wrong; he had
even gone so far as to volunteer to discharge the old and valued
employe. And the second was that for the first time his parent had
indicated a willingness to seriously listen to the thing he felt best
suited him and for which he was eager to sacrifice his enviable
prospects as a man of the business world.
He could hardly wait to tell his mother. She had always been a
sympathetic listener and while she had never greatly encouraged him in
his ambition she had never discouraged him.
It was, therefore, a source of disappointment to him to find upon
reaching home that his mother was not there. She had an appointment for
luncheon, the cook informed him, and would go to a club meeting after
that. It was impossible to draw any further information from the cook.
David suspected that she knew more, but to his casual remark that she
must have decided rather suddenly to go, there came no response.
Evidently the cook had orders not to talk, so he did not question her
further.
The afternoon seemed like a year. He tried to read a magazine; then a
book, but after turning a few pages he was forced to admit that he did
not know what he was reading about, so he closed it with a bang and
calling Spike, his terrier, went for a walk in the garden.
David had just passed his twenty-first year. He was tall, of athletic
build, with dark hair and eyes. There was the look of determination in
his face that caused others instinctively to respect him. And his
regular, pleasant features bespoke intelligence and breeding. If his
natural bent could only be diverted into the proper channel, there was
no question but that inborn ability and determination would make
themselves felt, and in no uncertain manner.
His father and mother returned just in time for dinner. That there was
anything unusual about this did not occur to David for, often when his
mother chanced to be in the vicinity of the office in the late afternoon
she dropped in and the two motored home together.
The conversation during the meal was a conventional one. It was not
until later when the three were together in the library that the subject
uppermost in David’s mind was broached.
“I have been talking this thing over with your mother,” his father began
abruptly. “There is but one thing in our minds. Regardless of how we
feel about it personally, we must consent to the course that seems best
for your own good.”
David said nothing, but looked expectantly at his mother.
“Are you sure, David?” she asked in a low voice. “Is your mind made up
definitely? Is there not the least possibility that you may want to
reconsider? Remember you are young. A mistake may mean the loss of
years, perhaps, that will never return. Here you have rare opportunities
to make both name and fortune. It would be well to think of these things
and to try to picture what it will mean to you to give up a certainty
for an uncertainty, for you know very little about the course you are
favoring.”
“I have thought of all that,” he said uncomfortably, “and I wish I could
feel differently, for your sake. But I just can’t help it. I have always
wanted to be out in the open where there is room to see and do things.”
For a moment nothing was said.
“Well,” his father finally ventured with a sigh, “then there is nothing
for us to do but to give you the chance you think we owe you. Be sure
that you are sure. Take a few weeks to think it over in. But you must
promise one thing. If we let you go and you don’t make good or find out
that you were mistaken after all, you will come back to the office and
buckle down to hard work and never mention the subject again.”
“I don’t need the time; my mind is made up now. And, I promise; but I
will get along all right and in the end you will be glad you let me try
it.”
They insisted on the time for reflection, however, and during the two
weeks that followed no mention was made of the matter. David did not go
back to the office; he spent the days, and parts of the nights, too, in
reading books on agriculture. These consisted mainly of government
publications, long possessed and secretly cherished. He had read them so
often that he was sure he knew all about farming and ranching; in fact,
when he should use all this information together with some ideas of his
own that he had worked out, he should greatly improve if not
revolutionize the whole farming and ranching business.
When the two weeks had expired there was another council in the library.
“What is the verdict?” his father asked. “Will you go or will you stay?”
“I want to go just as soon as possible.”
“Have you considered the matter fully from all angles?”
“Yes, I have.”
“And you still feel that your calling is out in the country?”
“Be absolutely sure of yourself before you answer,” his mother
cautioned.
“I am sure. I feel that when I get away from the noise and hurry and
confinement of the city I can accomplish more in a week than I could
here in a year.”
“And, if after trying it you find that you have been mistaken?”
“I shall come back at once and do exactly as I promised.”
“That settles it. You shall have your chance and it will be a rare one
even though you cannot realize at what cost to us.” He shot a quick
glance at his wife; her eyes were glistening.
“The fact that we have known of your ambition for a long time does not
make it easier for us, for you will be far, far away. That alone will
give you the opportunity to show your mettle. I think it best that it
should be so, for you will be thrown entirely upon your own resources.
Either you will become discouraged quickly and come back ready to take
our advice, or you will do big things.”
“Where?” David asked in an awed voice. “Where am I going?”
“To South America, because there real opportunities exist for the right
man.”
“South America?”
“Yes. Dan Rice, a former client of mine, has a ranch in the Argentine.
He went down fifteen years ago. He was a born stock man and made a huge
success of the venture. I enquired about him and learned that he is
opening a new place in Brazil, somewhere in the Upper Amazon country,
above the city called Manaos. I shall send you to him. If ever there was
a person who could judge men and get the best out of them, Rice is the
one. What do you say?”
“I don’t know what to say except to thank both of you for letting me go.
It is better than I even dreamed of. It will be wonderful!”
“Good! I only hope you will not be too greatly disappointed when you get
there.”
They continued the discussion far into the night; but the thing the
elder Jones did not tell his son was that he had already sent cablegrams
to Rice in Manaos in an attempt to make arrangements for his coming. A
very short time in the steaming and insect-infested tropics would be
sufficient to cause a change of heart, he felt sure. The fact that he
was in a wild country thousands of miles away from home and among
strangers would hasten it and make it more emphatic. And, once his
illusions were dispelled, David would be ready to settle down and do as
he was told.
As for David, he was too elated for words. “I am going at last,” he kept
repeating to himself. “My luck has changed! My luck has changed!”
But David was quite forgetful of the fact that there are two kinds of
luck, good and bad; and that the former seldom lasts long, while the
latter is inclined to linger with a most disheartening persistency, and
then grow worse.
CHAPTER II
DAVID LEAVES HOME
David was so excited over his proposed trip to a real ranch in South
America that he found sleep impossible on the night following the
momentous decision.
His head felt like a whirling mass that refused to come to a standstill.
He thought of a hundred things that he wanted to do all at once, but the
thoughts rushed back and forth and around in circles so that he could
not disentangle a single one to start with.
He was going to have his wish at last; that much he realized. And South
America at that! The very words were awe-inspiring. They suggested
mighty rivers, vast jungles where monkeys formed living chains or
bridges to span the streams, by clutching one another’s tails; and where
giant snakes drooped like garlands from the branches of great trees
while myriads of gorgeous birds and shimmering butterflies fluttered
among the bright-colored flowers. These sights must be common ones, for
had not the geographies pictured them as typical of the Southern
Continent?
David did not care, particularly, for some of the things he was sure he
should encounter--especially the snakes and the crocodiles. But, of
course, a ranch would not be situated out in the jungle; it would have
to be in the open where there was grass for the cattle. He tried to
picture such a place. A long, rambling building painted white, with a
few palm trees in front under which saddled horses were waiting
patiently for their riders; more trees, of some kind or other, nearby,
in the shade of which men dressed in buckskins, with fringes on their
breeches and great, leather gauntlets on their arms, were sprawled on
the grass, their wide-brimmed hats lying on the ground where they had
been carelessly tossed by their owners.
All about stretched the rolling meadows, miles and miles, dotted with
herds of cattle peacefully grazing on the long, green grass.
That was the picture that formed itself in his mind. But the things that
did not occur to him, the things the geographies did not mention and
that no one had told him about, so far, were the blistering heat of the
tropics that could scorch and burn as mercilessly as the blast from a
furnace; the insect pests that rendered life all but unendurable; the
fevers that sapped one’s vitality; and the monotony of existence in
far-away, lonely places with only the treacherous half-breeds and stolid
Indians for companions. It was just as well that these unpleasant
details and many others of similar nature remained in the obscure
background; he would make their acquaintance soon enough.
“Better decide on what you want to take with you,” his father advised
the next day. “You will not need anything fancy, and keep the amount
down as much as possible. Talk it over with your mother.”
That was good advice and David followed it. But it required nearly one
full day to make out the list, go over it carefully, strike out some
items, add others, and then start over again with the ever-present
suspicion that something of importance had been forgotten.
“I’ll tell you what,” he said finally, “I am not going to take anything
except a few clothes to wear on the trip, one khaki outfit and a gun.
How do I know what is proper down there? I might take down a lot of
things only to find that they are not suitable in that climate. And the
other fellows working on the ranch must get their clothes somewhere in
the neighborhood, so I can, too, after I find out exactly what I need.”
His mother promptly agreed that that was the sensible thing to do. Only,
she added, a few good books might prove not unwelcome companions on such
a trip, so David promptly packed his volumes on cattle and agriculture
as well as a few favorite others.
The news of his intended journey spread rapidly among his friends and
acquaintances. They immediately divided into two factions; one
considered him the luckiest mortal in the world while the other thought
he was the most foolish person imaginable.
David pitied them all, impartially. No matter how they felt, they were
all doomed to remain behind, chained to the treadmill of city existence,
while he was the one to go forth into God’s great world with only the
horizon to mark the boundary of his vision and activity.
“I cannot understand it,” Mr. Jones announced one evening soon after.
“Rice has not answered my cable. Perhaps he has given up the ranch and
gone to other parts. I am sorry, but you may not go after all. Too bad,
after all the anticipation.”
David’s heart sank.
“Rice or no Rice, I am going just the same,” he announced.
“But where to? If he has gone away there will be no place to which you
can go.”
“He couldn’t take the ranch with him, could he? If he has gone someone
else must have it. And even if that outfit is out of existence there
must be plenty of others. I am not fussy over where I make my start.”
“Very well. So far as this proposition is concerned you shall have your
own way. But you cannot blame me for being concerned about your
welfare.”
“Of course not. But at the same time, please don’t forget that I am not
a baby. I can take care of myself.”
His father bit his lip. His eyes narrowed as he regarded his son. And in
that instant an idea came to him.
“Just as you say,” he said quietly. “It will be your chance to show me
just what you can do. The _Morales_ sails a week from today and I shall
make a reservation for you. In the meantime, I shall send other cables;
you may go regardless of whether there are answers or not. Is that
satisfactory?”
“It’s splendid. I won’t sleep a wink until then.”
On the eve of the great day the little group around the dinner table was
very silent.
“Rice has answered at last,” Mr. Jones said suddenly.
“What did he say?” asked David, eagerly.
“Never mind what he said. You are determined to go, anyway, so it makes
no difference.”
“But does he want me to come?” David persisted.
“Suppose he does?”
“I should go, of course.”
“And if he does not?”
“I should go anyway. I am all ready, my ticket is bought and I couldn’t
think of backing out. I should never hear the last of it.”
“You are quite right. Everything is arranged, however, and I want you to
go. You will do just as you planned.”
David thought he noticed an amused expression on his father’s face, but
he was not quite sure. It did seem, though, that his manner had changed
remarkably in the last few days. His former reluctance had given way to
seeming eagerness. But in the feverishness of his excitement David did
not appraise these observations at their proper value and soon forgot
them entirely.
At last the memorable day actually arrived. The weeks of waiting had
seemed an eternity. But here he was, aboard the great boat; some of the
people about him were crying and for a moment he felt a strange feeling
coming upon him. Going was not so easy as he had thought. Just then the
bell warned all visitors to go ashore and amid the last farewells he was
reminded of one thing.
“Do not forget,” his father said, “you may return at any time you like
and you will be welcome at home. Even if you stay only a few days, the
experience of the voyage will be of value and you will be more content
to settle down. Perhaps you will be back soon.”
They went ashore. The gangway was raised and the engines began to throb
ever so slowly as the ship backed out of her berth. Not long after that
the boat was well out in the bay and the crowd that lined the dock
merged into a waving mass in which it was impossible to distinguish
anyone.
Those last words filled David with something like resentment.
“Perhaps you will be back soon!” Indeed! What did his father mean by
that? Well, they would have to wait a long time before seeing him again.
Upon that point he was determined. No matter what happened, he would not
return home very soon. He would stick it out in the face of every
obstacle and difficulty that might block his path. He would show them
that he could make good if he but had the opportunity and the
opportunity had come at last.
By that time the ship was well down the harbor, so he sought his cabin
to unpack his baggage. Upon entering he found a man several years his
senior busily engaged straightening out his own effects.
“My name is Rogers,” said the stranger, extending his hand. “I guess we
share this place.”
“Glad to know you. My name is Jones.”
“Well, as we are going to bunk together for a while I suppose we might
as well toss a coin for the berths.”
So saying, Rogers fished a dime out of his pocket.
“What will it be?” he asked.
“I’ll take heads,” David replied.
Rogers tossed the coin into the air.
“Tails, you lose, Jones,” he said. “So I will take the lower. Anyway,
you are younger and more spry than I am, so you will not mind climbing
into the upper.”
The conversation continued while they unpacked their luggage and the
older man gave David a good deal of information, having noticed that he
had not been to sea before. David rather liked Rogers and felt that this
was the beginning of a pleasant friendship.
* * * * *
Dinner in the Jones household was a quiet, solemn affair that night.
“Wellman played his part to perfection,” the father said finally. “Too
well, in fact. For a while I was afraid David would agree with me that
he should be discharged. But I am proud of the stand he took. He acted
just as I would have had him do.”
“Are you sure he does not suspect the plan was pre-arranged?”
“Yes, he thought Wellman was serious in calling him down. He was going
from bad to worse--through no fault of his own, I will admit. He tried
hard to make good but could not; and he never will until he forgets
those ideas with which his head is crammed. Only then will he come back
to earth and buckle down to his job.”
“Do you think he will be back soon?”
“Yes, I think so. When he sees what he is compelled to endure in Brazil
he will become disillusioned in short order. I know what I am talking
about and so I think a short time of it will be all he wants. Three
months, at most.”
Mr. Jones spoke with an air of finality. The ability to look ahead and
forecast the outcome of things had in a large measure placed him on the
pinnacle of success he occupied. But for once, and in spite of carefully
arranged plans, he was doomed to disappointment. For the son possessed
all the advantage; he was entering with unbounded enthusiasm a field for
which he had prepared himself, however slightly, and of which he
therefore had some knowledge, while the father was making predictions as
to the outcome of affairs of which he knew nothing.
CHAPTER III
THE AMAZON
Early the next morning David became aware of the fact that he had
embarked on a stormy voyage. The ship rolled and pitched in an alarming
manner. He could hear the shrieking and moaning of the wind and feel the
vessel tremble as the waves struck the steel sides with a muffled roar.
At first he did not know just what to make of it, so he groped for the
switch and turned on the light. Rogers was sleeping soundly in the berth
below. There was no one stirring on deck or in the passageway, so he
came to the conclusion that a storm was not an unusual occurrence and
that everyone took it as a matter of fact, so he snapped off the light.
But it was far from comfortable, this rolling and tossing, and sleep was
impossible. Daylight soon came, however, and with it the bustle and
sound of voices on deck incident to life aboard ship.
“Going down to breakfast?” Rogers enquired, holding to a hand-rail with
one hand while he calmly shaved with the other. He seemed to mind not at
all the lurching of the boat.
“I guess not; I don’t feel hungry,” David replied in a weak voice.
“Sick?”
“A little. It’s not so bad while I lie still; but when I try to get up
my head spins.”
“Never mind. It will soon pass. Better have a cup of coffee; then you
will feel better. I’ll ring for the steward.”
“No, don’t. Please, let’s talk about something else; anything but food.
Will the storm last long?”
“It may clear up later. If it gets calmer come out for a walk on deck.
The fresh air is a good tonic,” and he strode out of the room.
But the storm did not subside. It lasted two whole days and three
nights. By that time David was so ill he was compelled to remain in his
berth another full day to recuperate sufficiently to venture out.
The fresh air and the bright sunshine on the upper deck worked wonders.
Added to these, long walks back and forth, a few games of shuffleboard
and an occasional dip in the ship’s swimming tank soon restored his good
health and usual cheerful manner.
“You expect to work on a ranch in Brazil, eh?” Rogers commented one
morning as they leaned over the rail to watch the flyingfish startled by
the prow of the boat as she cut her way through the glassy water.
“I not only expect to but I am going to,” David returned promptly.
“How long are you going to stay?”
“A long, long time. In fact, I haven’t thought of going back. I had
better get there first.”
“Know anything about ranching?”
“Not much; but I can learn.”
“Know anything about Brazil or what you are going to be up against?”
Rogers persisted.
“Not a thing.”
“Do you know what I think?”
“I’m not a mind-reader.”
“Well, I think you are foolish to try it.”
“Thank you,” David replied promptly.
“I mean it.”
“I can’t help what you think,” pleasantly. “My head is working overtime
figuring out my own things.”
“I would not go where you are going for a thousand dollars a month.”
“Neither would I. I am doing this because I am interested in it and want
to learn. Office work, no matter how easy, is unbearable to me because I
don’t like it. Outdoor work, no matter how hard, will be fun because I
do like it.”
“I went to Manaos once, and that was far enough,” Rogers proceeded. “The
heat, the rains, the mosquitoes, in fact everything that makes life
miserable was there in too great abundance to suit me. If I were in your
place I should go up the river for the sake of the trip. The Amazon
country is great--to see from the deck of the steamer. Look at it until
you have your fill and then go back to the good position you left. I am
telling you right now that you are making a big mistake, and you will
regret it.”
“It’s very kind of you to take such an interest in me, but you must
think I am a jellyfish. There is no use saying anything more. My mind is
made up. I wouldn’t even think of backing out--not for the world,”
Jones asserted in no uncertain accents.
“All right. Think it over.” Rogers yawned and went to his deck chair,
while David took a small, red volume from his pocket and devoted his
time to the study of Portuguese.
The days slipped by pleasantly and quickly. The water assumed a deeper
blue color and great rafts of seaweed dotted the surface. The air was
balmy and delightful.
There was always something new and interesting to see. The birds in
particular attracted David’s attention, especially the man-o’-war birds
that soared on motionless, narrow wings hour after hour and, it was
said, day after day, in the cloudless sky. They rarely slept or rested
but sailed on tireless pinions as if they enjoyed it, bent on some
mission none could fathom. Then there were the little petrels or Mother
Carey’s chickens, as the sailors called them, fluttering and skipping
over the water like huge, black grasshoppers; they appeared in greatest
numbers on those rare occasions when the ship passed through a choppy
stretch of water.
Some of the barren, rocky islands were fairly teeming with boobies,
jaegers, gannets and other feathered lovers of the briny deep. They sat
on the shelflike ledges running along the faces of the cliffs like the
tiers of beads on an abacus. Other swarms filled the air, fluttering,
soaring, circling and wheeling amidst squawks and screams while still
other hordes sat motionless on the water.
The jaegers were the pirates of the deep. They waited until the smaller
birds returned from their successful fishing excursion, then attacked
them until they disgorged their catches which they greedily appropriated
to their own use.
These sights fascinated David. How different from the imprisonment of
the city! And this was but a taste of what he was to see, a sample of
the free life in the open for which he longed.
After nearly two weeks sailing he came on deck one morning to find that
the color of the water had changed overnight. Instead of the clear,
crisp blue the ship was ploughing her way through a sea of yellow that
extended to the horizon on every side. He called the matter to the
attention of Rogers.
“That muddy water is discharged by the Amazon,” the latter said.
“But we are not near the river yet,” David remarked incredulously.
“There is no land in sight.”
“No, we are not near the river and will not be until some time tomorrow.
Even if we were in the very center of the Amazon you could not see the
banks, for the river is about one hundred and fifty miles wide at its
mouth. The quantity of water it carries into the ocean is so enormous
that it keeps its yellow color several hundred miles out at sea before
the mud settles and the fresh water is thoroughly mixed with and
absorbed by the brine of the ocean.”
The next evening they saw the first indication of land. At first there
were only long lines of white far in the distance where breakers were
dashing over the low sandbars that checked their onward sweep. Later,
they distinguished small, dark tufts, like feather dusters, outlined
against the clear sky; these were coconut palms growing on the outlying
islands. And before long the first land--dim strips of dark color
seemingly suspended between the water and the sky, met their gaze.
At night they entered the river proper. It was too dark to see anything,
but David was so excited he could hardly sleep. Here he was, on the
mighty Amazon, and it was not a dream either. What tales the silent
water could tell could it but talk! What had the stream witnessed, on
its journey through many thousands of miles of wilderness and jungle
inhabited by savage beasts and equally savage peoples! And what secrets
were locked up in that outwardly calm, yellow flood! The very air seemed
saturated with mystery, romance and adventure. And here he was, alone
and foot-free and eager to absorb his full share of everything this
wonderful country offered.
With daylight came disappointment. Instead of the wide expanse of water
David had expected to see there was only a narrow channel through which
the ship proceeded with caution. Both banks were covered with heavy,
deep green vegetation, extending to the edge of the river. Creepers and
ropelike lianas dangled from the branches and trailed in the water;
climbing ferns and palms and a host of other plants clinging to the
boughs and trunks united them into a solid wall of living green.
Here and there a bright-colored flower glowed brilliantly against the
darker background and from the interior of the tangled, matted screen
came subdued cries and screams. A flock of green parrots, flying low,
passed overhead and then dived into the jungle on the other side and
disappeared. There were fully a hundred birds in the party, but they
flew two by two, with a peculiar fanning motion of the wings, like a
duck’s.
One of the branches on the side nearest the steamer stirred and someone
shouted “monkeys.” David looked but saw only the swaying vegetation
which moved as if agitated by a gust of wind.
“I am sorry I missed them. I have never seen a wild monkey,” he said.
“You will see plenty of them before long; and not only see but get real
well acquainted with them,” Rogers volunteered.
“You mean they are tame and come to the camps in the forests?”
“Not exactly. You will have to live on them.”
“What? Eat monkeys?” David asked in dismay.
“Certainly. Everyone does in the bush. The Indians eat
everything--monkeys, crocodiles, snakes and lizards. And if you want to
live out in the wilderness you shall have to do as they do because there
is no other way out of it. You will be thankful for whatever you find
whether you like it or not.”
“But the rivers must be full of fish,” David reminded him.
“They are. Catching them is another proposition though. Besides, there
is nothing in the world a white man becomes so tired of as fish if he
eats it day after day.”
“Why worry?” David said it bravely, but a sigh escaped him. “If that is
the custom here I guess I can get used to it.”
The prospect of having to eat monkeys, as he knew them in the zoo at
home, was not a pleasant one and the thoughts that were in his mind were
reflected in the expression on his face. Rogers gave him a sharp glance,
then walked away; he was finding his task a difficult one.
The first stop was at Pará, and as the steamer carried a quantity of
freight for that port and was to remain two days there was ample time
for sightseeing ashore.
The feel of solid ground under his feet was very welcome to David; and
to enter the low-lying city beside the river was like stepping into
fairyland.
How different everything was from the life and living conditions of a
temperate clime. Instead of the tall buildings and wide streets bustling
with humanity there were blocks of low, white structures, narrow,
crooked streets lined with drooping, swaying palms; and the people, of
every shade from white to black, seemed to take things in a leisurely
manner.
It was warm--disagreeably warm at midday and during the early afternoon
hours--but David was too interested in his surroundings to take much
note of the heat. He tramped the streets and tried to see everything
that unfolded itself before his eyes.
The flaming _Jacaranda_ trees that thrust themselves upon one’s notice
through the sheer boldness of their beauty fascinated him. Not extremely
tall but with wide-spreading branches they looked like enormous bouquets
so thickly were they covered with purplish flowers with only an
occasional tuft of fern-like leaves to enhance their beauty.
There were palms without number. Some grew tall and stately with crowns
of gracefully drooping leaves; others had bent, spiny stems; and still
others had shocks of ragged, split leaves perched on the top of thick,
ringed trunks.
A curio store just off the main thoroughfare attracted David’s attention
and after gazing at the display in the windows for some time he decided
to investigate the mysteries inside so forcefully suggested by the
objects in front. He had always intended to make a collection of
butterflies and other things and here was the opportunity to start it.
But the door was locked. He tried the door of the next shop; it, too,
was bolted. A passing policeman, observing his actions, volunteered the
information that everything would be closed until later in the afternoon
because the people were taking a nap during the hottest part of the day.
And as David strolled down the street he rejoiced that the curio store
had been closed, for what could he have done with the butterflies if he
had purchased them? They were too fragile to carry around for months in
the wilderness; and he would no doubt have the opportunity personally to
collect all he wanted at the ranch.
The afternoon being spent, the wanderer went back to the waterfront and
boarded the steamer, and remained aboard for the night. There followed
another day of sight-seeing, confined principally to the numerous little
parks, and then the voyage was resumed up the river.
David remained on deck as the steamer headed up the sluggish, muddy
stream and enjoyed the changing vistas of broad expanses of water and
the dark green of the vegetation that contrasted sharply with it. Then
he went to his cabin to wash up for dinner. And there was Rogers
examining a number of souvenirs he had purchased in Pará; a medly array
of feather flowers, Indian head-dresses and the skins of birds and
snakes was spread on the floor and chairs.
“You still here?” David asked in surprise. He had not seen him since
saying good-bye the morning they reached the port, as Rogers had stated
that he was going no further than Pará.
“Yes, I am going to stick around a while longer--until we get to Manaos,
to be exact,” Rogers replied in a matter-of-fact voice.
“Great! But you changed your mind rather suddenly, didn’t you? I hardly
expected to see you again.”
“I did intend to go only to Pará, but I found that my affairs had not
been settled. So I have to keep on going. But I do not mind. The trip up
the river is interesting.”
“Say, Rogers,” David asked suddenly. “What is your business anyway? I
don’t like to be inquisitive; that is why I didn’t ask before now. But I
am filled with curiosity.”
“It is of a personal nature; sorry I cannot go into greater detail but
that would be violating a confidence,” and Rogers looked embarrassed.
“I see,” David said simply, but he could not get the matter off his
mind, try as he would. And to make things worse he could see no reason
why Rogers’ affairs should cause him any concern.
To spend six days on the mighty Amazon is an event in any man’s life; to
David it was the greatest he had experienced. Each morning when the
noise of the deck scrubbers awakened him he jumped from his berth and
after dressing hastily went on deck to see the sun rise. On no two
mornings was the awe-inspiring spectacle that unfolded itself before his
eyes the same in all respects. Sometimes the flaming, angry ball of fire
shot up as if from some place of concealment beyond the black wall of
forest; once it rose out of the yellow flood, at the foot of a wide path
of gold and pink light that danced and sparkled on the wave-crests; and
again, there were but fleeting glimpses of shafts of bright light that
darted through rifts in the cloud-banks whose edges were aglow with
burnished silver.
When the forested banks were visible they always loomed up like dark,
impenetrable barriers; but as the light grew stronger the blurred
outlines of trees, palms and a thousand points of vegetation gradually
became clearer and finally revealed their identity.
The forest enchanted the beholder. It exhaled an air of mystery, the
promise of adventure; and at the same time it hurled a bold defiance.
“Come, ferret out my secrets, search for my treasures,” it seemed to
say, “and I will overwhelm you, engulf you and you will be no more. But
come, come, if you dare.”
David read both the invitation and the challenge; and with more
determination than ever, he accepted them.
Nothing was seen of the wild life with which the jungle must have been
teeming. Perhaps it was because the walls of vegetation were so dense
they hid the creatures that lurked within their green depths. Then, too,
the river was frequently so wide that the banks could scarcely be
distinguished, showing only as low, dark lines in the hazy distance.
Occasionally a flock of ducks passed overhead. There were gulls also,
and other waterfowls. But far more numerous were the parrots and great
macaws, in large, boisterous companies that winged their way heavily
across the wide expanse of water. From a distance the parrots resembled
the ducks but there was always the easily noticeable difference, that no
matter how large their number, they always flew two by two.
“Where are all the crocodiles?” David asked the captain of the ship one
day as the latter stopped beside him at the railing. “And the big water
snakes and other things you hear about the Amazon?”
The captain looked at him in an amused manner.
“They are here, that is the crocodiles are, but the water is too high to
see them,” he said. “During the dry season the sand bars and islands are
covered with them. There are plenty of anacondas, too, but they stay
around the banks. So you are going into the interior, I hear!”
“Yes, to a ranch that’s just starting up,” David replied.
“Well, you’ll see all the snakes and other vermin you want, and more
too.”
“Fine! I have never been here before and I want to see everything there
is to be seen.”
“You had better look fast then, because you won’t stay long. They all go
back pretty quick.”
“Not I. I am going into the business for good.”
“That’s what they all say. And I carry them back home on the next boat.”
“You will not carry me back on the next boat, nor on the trip after that
either.” David was losing patience.
“If you knew what’s in store for you you wouldn’t even go ashore when we
get to Manaos; you would come right back home with me on this trip. And
that is what I would advise you to do.”
“Thank you,” and David walked away.
They made short stops at the more important towns along the river, to
deliver mail and unload freight.
The waterfront in these places always teemed with dark-skinned natives.
Long lines of men, stripped to the waist, were carrying bags of produce
to barges moored to the banks, waiting for steamers going downstream.
Groups of other men lounged on the docks or came to the ship in
row-boats, offering fruit for sale.
David was greatly surprised to see the barges of Brazil nuts that were
being transferred to a steamer outward bound. The nuts--he had no idea
there were so many in the world, were handled just like coal. They were
scooped out of the barges in steam shovels and dumped into the hold of
the boat, where they disappeared in the seemingly insatiable, black
void. Many were spilled overboard and others rained on the deck, but no
one cared.
There were cargoes of rubber, too, large, oblong balls, or thick bricks
that must have weighed several hundreds of pounds. But David was to see
enough of them later and under less attractive circumstances.
On the sixth day they reached the junction of the Rivers Negro and
Solimoes.
“This is the end of the Amazon,” Rogers explained as they gazed at the
sweep of the mighty streams.
“The end?” David asked in surprise. “I always thought of the Amazon as a
river three or four thousand miles long.”
“The Amazon proper is only about one thousand miles long. But the
Solimoes continues on a few thousand more and is in reality the Upper
Amazon. Here is a map that shows it.”
He drew a folder out of his pocket and they spread it on the foot of a
deck chair.
“See?” Rogers said, “Manaos is ten miles up the Rio Negro which comes
from the north-west. The Solimoes comes from the west and has its source
near Quito, Peru. It is navigable, too, almost the whole of its length
in boats of some kind. As I said, though, you have seen all of the real
Amazon. Now, are you satisfied?”
“What do you mean?”
“Have you seen enough?”
“Of the river and country? I should say not. I haven’t even started.
What I have seen has only aroused my curiosity and a stronger desire for
more. I can hardly wait to get into the interior. Think of what is
behind those walls of forest!”
“Mosquitoes, snakes and cannibals.”
“Good! They are just what I want to see.”
Rogers sighed but David did not notice it. He folded the map and put it
back into his pocket.
In another hour they had reached Manaos.
CHAPTER IV
ROGERS’ WORK
Manaos is a surprisingly large city for one that is situated in such an
out of the way place, but there is nothing bewildering or startling
about it. In some respects it is very much like the larger but more
backward towns of our own country but in most it is very different.
The first thing to thrust itself upon the visitor’s notice is the
intense heat; all the sun’s rays seem to converge in the depression in
which Manaos nestles. An inspection of the place, however, reveals
compensating virtues in the form of green, shady parks, cooling
fountains, and comfortable hotels for the traveller.
David was not particularly interested in the city although he took note
of some of the more unusual features; he had seen Pará which had
impressed him as being more attractive. He felt that enough time had
been spent already in travel and in sight-seeing and he was eager to
start work. So he lost no time in going to the hotel where someone from
the ranch was to meet him, in accordance with the arrangements that he
supposed had been made by cable before he left home.
No doubt Mr. Rice had come to welcome him personally, he thought; and
he was more than disappointed to learn that such was not the case.
“Senhor Rice has not been here in weeks,” the proprietor of the hotel
told him in answer to his questioning.
“But he was either to be here or to send someone,” David protested. “I
am going to his ranch and they were to come for me.”
“Here is the list of patrons. You may read it. Do you recognize any of
the names?”
David scanned the page of the register and admitted that the names were
all unfamiliar to him.
“I would recognize only Mr. Rice’s name,” he added, “and that is not
there.”
“No, the Senhor is not here.”
“Didn’t someone else say he expected me? There must be somebody here who
is hunting for me right this minute.”
The Brazilian shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, I understand now,” David explained, with a smile. “Whoever is
coming hasn’t arrived. He might have been delayed accidentally or
perhaps he thought the steamer was not due today. I’ll wait and
everything will be all right. When I am asked for, remember that I am
here. And, if a message or letter comes, give it to me without delay.”
The whole explanation seemed so simple to David. It must be exactly as
he had said. It was not in the least remarkable that one should miss
connections in a land lacking the elaborate facilities for travel his
own country boasted. He wondered how the matter could have caused him
concern and why he had not thought of the solution before.
Half an hour later he left his room and in passing through the corridor
could not resist the impulse to step into the office to make another
inquiry. But the answer was the same. There was nothing new, no message;
nor had anyone arrived from the ranch.
“Tomorrow, probably,” he thought, “and if not then, the day after that
without fail. I must learn to be patient although they should apologize
for keeping me waiting.”
In the meantime, he would see what there was of interest in the city,
and by asking questions learn as much as possible about the country of
the hinterland.
He had not gone two blocks before he met Rogers. The latter was stopping
aboard the ship; he felt sure that he could wind up his affairs during
the week the vessel lay in port and had engaged passage for the return
journey.
“Hello!” he greeted David cheerfully. “You still here? I thought you
might be on your way to the ranch by this time.”
“No, we missed connections some way. I can’t understand why, but they
have not come for me yet. But I expect them any minute.”
“Still got the fever, eh? Still want to go as badly as ever?”
“I certainly have got the fever, and the temperature is going up.”
“Say, you know what I said to you before--I think you are one foolish
person.”
“Look here, Rogers,” David retorted hotly. “Why are you so concerned
over my affairs? I didn’t insist on knowing what brought you here but
you keep harping about my business all of the time. Now forget it.”
“If that is the way you feel, I shall not mention it again,” Rogers
stammered, looking offended. “But--but just because I do not mention it
will not make me feel differently about it. I am sorry you are so set on
doing something you will surely regret.”
“Good-bye.” David wanted to fight but he dared not, remembering past
experiences and their consequences, so he quickly continued on his way.
Three days passed and still David remained unsought by anyone from the
ranch. The fact began to worry him.
He had spent the time alternately waiting in the hotel and tramping the
streets. The very sight of the Teatro Nacional, at first so imposing on
its built-up pedestal that covers an entire city block; the plazas with
their tropical trees, shrubs and dazzling flowers; the hot, winding
streets; and the parrots shrieking and squawking from their perches in
the doorways of the squat, thick-walled buildings; all began to pall on
him. He had not come all that distance to see cities; if that had been
his desire he might have remained at home. What he longed for was the
great outdoors and the myriad, varied possibilities it brought with it.
Why did not they come or at least communicate with him? he asked himself
again and again. He could bear the suspense no longer. He would
communicate with them.
The telephone occurred to him first of all as the most rapid means but,
of course, there was no service to Las Palmas. Nor was it possible to
send a telegram. A letter was the only thing he could think of; but when
they called for the letter they would also come for him. So there was in
reality no way of communicating with them after all.
In desperation, he went to the owner of the hotel and told him what was
on his mind.
“If they knew you were coming and wanted you at Las Palmas, they would
have been here,” the latter said. “What do you expect to do there,
anyway? My advice would be to go back home, if you asked me. You will be
better off there.”
“Good Heavens! This is beginning to look like a conspiracy of some
kind,” David started, but checked himself. Again the visions of past
experiences loomed up before him. He would endure almost anything rather
than take a single chance of spoiling this new and greatest of all
ventures. So he turned and walked away.
“I know what I’ll do,” he decided. “I’ll see the American Consul. He
will fix me up.”
Just as he turned to enter the doorway beneath the shield that served as
the guiding sign to the consul’s office he almost collided with Rogers
coming out.
They exchanged greetings and each went his way.
After waiting a few minutes in the anteroom he was admitted to the
official’s presence and briefly explained his mission. The consul
listened impatiently for a minute and then interrupted the recital.
“You will never get on there,” he said. “It is no place for an American
without practical experience. Las Palmas is a particularly bad place and
Rice is a terrible person--they call him the viper.”
David was boiling within, but said nothing, so the official continued:
“The ranch is a new one, just being opened up. No one but the natives
and Indians can do the clean-up work that is in progress now. You would
die in a little while if you tried it. I will fix up your passport and
you start back on the next boat.”
“I see,” said David simply, without betraying his feeling. “Thank you
for your offer but I cannot accept it just now for I am certainly not
going back home. I came to stay.”
“Stay and you will be sorry.”
“That’s up to me. And if Mr. Rogers comes to see you again, give him a
passport. I intend to see to it that he leaves the country on the next
boat.”
The air in the street lacked the cooling quality necessary to restore
David’s ruffled temper. Heat-waves rose from the flag-stones and smote
him in the face and the slight eddies that whirled around the corners
could have come out of the mouth of a furnace--they were so stifling.
The truth of the whole matter dawned upon David at last. Rogers was the
cause of all the discouragements he had met. The business upon which he
had come was to try to persuade him to return home. He had been sent for
that purpose. He chuckled grimly as he thought how Rogers would have to
report failure of his mission. They would see that he was not a
quitter. He did not blame his father for guarding his welfare but he
would prove to the world that he could look after his own interest in
any place and under any circumstances. The newly acquired knowledge made
him more determined than ever. So, as he returned to his lodgings a plan
formed itself in his mind; he would put it into effect without delay.
There was but one other matter that had to be attended to first. He must
see that Rogers actually sailed on the departing steamer; with him out
of the way, the rest would be easy.
A full hour before the ship was due to leave, David went aboard. And
about the first person he met on deck was Rogers.
“I came to see you off,” he said in a friendly manner.
Rogers looked at him with a puzzled expression on his face.
“You _are_ going, aren’t you?”
“Why, yes, I guess so.”
“Seems to me you ought to know for sure. If you don’t, I will tell you.
You _are_. I am on to your game. The best thing for you to do is not to
waste any more time. Tell them back home I am all right; and that you
did your best to discourage me but--you know the result. I am sending
letters on this same boat. Now, good-bye, and have a nice trip. I am
going to wait at the dock until you are out of sight.”
For a moment Rogers did not know what to say. Then he extended his hand.
“Good-bye,” he said simply.
“No hard feelings so far as I am concerned. You went to a lot of trouble
for nothing.”
“I am sorry, that is all.” Rogers appeared dejected. “And I can only
hope that you will reconsider the matter before it is too late. Remember
how they feel about it back home.”
David went ashore and waited. It was with a feeling of relief that he
saw the ship move out into the river at last, with Rogers at the rail
waving a last farewell. When the vessel finally disappeared from view he
turned his steps toward that section of the riverbank where a number of
launches were tied up, with their crews either aboard or on the bank.
“Where can I hire a boat?” he asked one of the men. “I want to go a
short distance up the river.”
“There is the _capitain_,” the sailor replied, pointing to a man dressed
exactly like the others but wearing an officer’s cap on his head.
David repeated the question to the person indicated.
“Where to?” he asked.
“The ranch Las Palmas.”
“Why don’t you go on one of the Las Palmas launches?” the captain asked
abruptly.
“I would if I knew where to find one. But I have been waiting a number
of days and none of their boats has put in here,” David explained.
“I will show you one. See that gray launch right over there, the
_Aguila_? That belongs to the ranch.”
David could have shouted for joy. They had come for him at last. He
hurried to the _Aguila_. Perhaps Mr. Rice had come in person to greet
him. This was luck indeed! Probably he had hurried to the hotel with
apologies for the delay; but no need for that inasmuch as he had finally
come and the long wait was over. There was the possibility, however,
that he was still aboard the launch.
By the time David reached the boat it was almost impossible to suppress
his eagerness and excitement.
“The _Aguila_ comes from Las Palmas,” he began, “so they tell me. Is Mr.
Rice on board now?”
A sailor who was washing several articles of clothing by beating them on
the rocks near the water’s edge looked up.
“No,” he said. “Senhor Rice is not here. He never travels on the
Aguila--it is not good enough for him.”
“Doesn’t he ever visit Manaos?”
“Yes, when there is some good reason for it but he always uses the
_Indio_ which is larger and much finer; you should see it. The _Aguila_
is for the peons and the cook when they come to buy provisions.”
“Where is the _Indio_ now?” David was becoming somewhat uneasy.
“At Las Palmas.”
“Didn’t Senhor Rice say anything about coming to Manaos in the near
future?”
“He never talks to the peons, so I don’t know.”
“You see,” David explained, “I am on my way to the ranch and they were
to send for me.”
“_Si, Senhor._” The man now stopped washing and listened respectfully.
“Did you hear anything about that?”
“_No, Senhor._”
“When do you start back?”
“This afternoon.”
“Today?” in surprise. “When did you arrive?”
“Two days ago.”
“There must be a misunderstanding somewhere. I have been waiting a good
many days and this is the first I heard of your coming, and that was by
accident. Who is in charge of the boat?”
“The captain. He went with the others to get some rice and other things.
He will be back soon.”
“I’ll wait, then.”
“Yes, Senhor,” and the man resumed his washing.
Here was a new predicament he had not counted on. For a while he racked
his brain in an effort to disentangle the puzzle, but it was of no
avail. He was compelled to give it up. There was certainly a mix-up
somewhere and that was all there was to it. By and by it would be all
cleared up and he would then laugh at his present anxiety and vexation.
The captain arrived before very long, followed by three men carrying
heavy bags on their shoulders. He was a thick-set, burly fellow and one
could tell at a glance that he was accustomed to giving orders which
others dared not hesitate long in obeying. A stubby beard covered the
greater part of his face effectually, concealing his features--all but
the eyes--small, black and penetrating. A flat cap with a long peak was
perched on the top of his head, the black hair, touched with gray,
appearing under the rim in a dense, unkempt ring.
That head-dress, David was to learn later, was typical of the masters
of the smaller river craft and was their only badge of position and
authority for, otherwise, they were dressed exactly like their ragged
crews.
David did not like the looks of the swarthy newcomer. But that did not
matter. He wanted to get to Las Palmas and the man possessed the means
of getting him there.
“My name is David Jones and I am from New York,” he said by way of
greeting. “I have been waiting a long time for you.”
“Me? Why have you been waiting for me? What do you want?” the captain
asked in surprise.
“I want to get to the ranch. Didn’t Mr. Rice instruct you to bring me
out?”
“I don’t know anything about it. Nobody said a word to me.”
“Well,” David tried to conceal his impatience with a laugh, “I am
expected at the ranch and I want to get there so soon as possible. I can
have my baggage here in fifteen minutes.”
The captain was looking at him sharply, even suspiciously.
“Do you think this is a passenger boat?” he asked. “We don’t carry
strangers without a written order from the boss.”
“But this is different,” David protested. “I am not a stranger. They are
looking for me. Mr. Rice must have misunderstood the date or he would
have been here personally.”
“That is not my fault,” said the captain gruffly.
“But I can go with you, can’t I?”
“No! If you knew the boss you would not ask me to take you. He is awful
when anyone does a thing he don’t like. He killed a man for that very
thing last week.”
“I am not afraid he’ll kill me.”
“Neither am I. I don’t care what happens to you but I do care what
happens to me.”
“How soon is the _Aguila_ coming back to Manaos?” said David in despair.
“Not for six months. Next week she starts on a long trip to carry
supplies to the rubber camps upriver.”
“And the _Indio_?”
“The _Indio_ has a broken propeller. They sent for a new one but it
generally takes a year to get anything from abroad.”
“Say,” David was wiping his face in desperation, “I have to get to Las
Palmas and that is all there is to it.”
“I have nothing against it. Get there any way you like--but not on the
_Aguila_.”
A sudden idea came to him. Perhaps the fellow wanted money.
“I’ll pay you well. How much do you want?” he asked.
The Brazilian straightened up; his eyes blazed.
“Are you trying to bribe me?” he bellowed, “and right in front of my
men? If you are, you’re insulting me. I am paid for my work and I want
none of your money. A fine person, you are, to try to buy me to disobey
my chief’s orders.”
“I did nothing of the kind,” David returned hotly. “I offered you money
to pay my passage because I could hardly ask a stranger to carry me for
nothing.”
“Well, I accept your explanation, but you will not go, just the same.
That is settled--understand? I am very busy.” This was said in such a
manner that David could not fail to grasp its significance.
He was in a quandary. It was just one discouraging thing after another.
Would matters ever become straightened out? He must go on that launch,
for had not the burly captain told him there would not be another in
months? He made one more desperate effort.
“I am going on the _Aguila_ whether you like it or not. And when I get
to Las Palmas--” he began, but the captain stopped him.
“Talk all you want to, but if I catch you aboard my boat I’ll throw you
into the river,” he threatened.
David looked at the man and knew he would keep his word. His mind worked
fast; he thought of one other thing.
“How soon do you start?” he asked.
“In two hours.”
“Will you take a letter for me?”
“Yes, I will take a letter or as many as you want to send, but I will
not take you, so don’t ask it again. Las Palmas is no place for a
foreigner. It is terrible there--snakes, insects and fevers. And the
boss treats us like dogs.”
David ignored these remarks.
“I’ll go to the hotel to write the letter and will bring it to you in
less than an hour.”
He hastened back to his room to prepare the missive, and ignoring a
first impulse to write all that had occurred during the last hour, he
only stated that he had arrived and was eager to reach the ranch, but
had no way of doing so.
“When Mr. Rice gets this he’ll ask the captain questions and then he’ll
be furious at the way I have been treated,” he thought. “And he’ll make
him turn right around and come back for me. Then it will be my turn to
show off, just as he did, and it will serve him right. He will soon find
out who I am.”
He hastened back to the river to deliver the letter, and as he thought
the matter over he was glad he had omitted all reference to the captain,
for the latter would doubtless read it and if he found anything too
personal he would destroy it.
Bad as it was, his position could have been a great deal worse. It was
now a question of only a few days more of waiting. That was a certainty.
But when David reached the river, breathless and perspiring, a new
calamity awaited him. The _Aguila_ was gone.
He looked up and down the river; there was no sign of the boat. As he
stood on the sand, too stunned to move, a sailor came up to him and
spoke sympathetically.
“Are you looking for the _Aguila_?” he asked.
David subconsciously murmered assent.
“She left over half an hour ago--right after you went away.”
“Thanks.”
David turned and slowly walked away. Try as he would to banish the
feeling, there was no denying the fact that his experiences were
beginning to dim the glamor of the life he had longed for; and that,
too, in the face of the fact that so far he had accomplished absolutely
nothing.
He went to the post office and mailed the letter, hoping that somehow or
other it would reach its destination.
CHAPTER V
A CHANGE OF FORTUNE
David felt sure that he was the most luckless of all persons. So far,
about everything had gone wrong. But there must be a turning-point
somewhere. It was strange how a single misunderstanding could cause so
much confusion.
To make matters worse, regardless of what happened he had to accept the
situation in apparent good humor, for he dared not assert himself too
strongly. If there had been trouble, he would have been blamed, fairly
or unfairly; that had been, almost invariably, his experience. Rather
than take a single chance at spoiling this opportunity of a lifetime he
would suffer in silence. But when the day came, as it surely would, when
he had won his spurs, he would demonstrate that he could direct affairs
as well as obey the orders of others.
He had wanted to thrash Rogers; and the American Consul should at least
have been told that his duties did not include meddling in other
people’s business. As for the gruff captain of the _Aguila_--he should
receive his dues when the time came; Mr. Rice would of course make him
regret his rude conduct toward his guest.
When David reached his hotel his indignation was still at the boiling
point. He must relieve his mind to someone and that person,
unfortunately, was the owner of the hotel, for he happened to be the
first one he chanced to meet.
He told him the whole episode from beginning to end omitting none of the
details. The man listened attentively until the recital was finished.
Then he grunted, with an amused expression on his face.
“Hum! I think he did right in not taking you. His orders were clear.”
“Yes, but how about the letter? He said he was leaving in two hours and
then went in half an hour.”
“There may have been a reason for the change. If you knew his boss you
would not blame him for being careful. Las Palmas is a notorious place.
Everyone who can, avoids it. Those who are there are slaves--they are
afraid to leave. Rice has the reputation of being the worst character in
the country.”
“That’s very interesting,” David retorted. “I am very glad to hear it
because I had the idea that all ranch life had become tame and
commonplace. It will be great to see a real place--I can hardly wait to
get there.”
“And how are you going to get there?” the Brazilian asked with a smile.
“That is the question just now; but, once there, I guess I can look out
for myself.”
“You can’t walk. It is many, many kilometers away. And the ranch boats,
you say, will not be back in a long time.”
“Right! Still, I will find a way.”
“Let me assure you that you will not. Now listen. You do not know how
lucky you are to have escaped that outfit at Las Palmas----”
“And next,” David interrupted, “you will be saying that there is a boat
out of here for New York soon and I had better take it.”
The hotel man looked sheepish.
“I thought so,” David continued. “Save yourself any further trouble on
my account. You take care of your business and I’ll tend mine. Please
remember that.”
Leaving the astonished Brazilian he went to his room and spent the
greater part of an hour looking out of the window at the little plaza
across the street and--thinking.
“I can’t stay here any longer,” he finally concluded. “If I do I’ll get
into a fight and I don’t want to fight. I’ll have to watch my step.”
He packed his belongings, slowly and without paying a great deal of
attention to just what he was doing. When he entered the office and
asked for his statement the owner of the hotel appeared grieved.
“Why are you leaving now?” he asked. “The boat does not leave until
tomorrow.”
David gritted his teeth but smiled.
“I know it. But I am sailing out of here right now. How much is it? I am
in a hurry.”
A moment later he stepped out into the street and turned in the opposite
direction to which he intended going, knowing that inquisitive eyes were
following him. A few blocks away he entered a side street and then came
back toward the center of the city. He found one of the smaller inns and
secured a room without arousing comment. Now he felt more free to pursue
the plan he had formed for, unknown and among disinterested persons, he
was more apt to get the help and information he needed. Or at least
there would be no interference.
He made no inquiries until late the following morning. Haste or a show
of too great eagerness might arouse suspicion. And then, after artfully
swinging the conversation he had started with the clerk to hunting and
to big game, he casually inquired if it would be possible to hire a
launch or boat of any kind for a trip up the river.
Much to his delight he was told that such a thing could be arranged
without trouble. There were numerous craft leaving the port daily that
would drop him at any of the little colonies or camps situated along the
river bank. The clerk even gave him the names of several persons with
whom arrangements could be made for such an outing.
To David the future seemed decidedly brighter and not long after he
sought the first man on his list. After locating the man--the keeper of
a small shop on the Rua Amazonas, and making a trivial purchase, he
remarked that he might find it necessary to make a short journey on the
river and was looking for a launch he could hire by the hour or day.
The Brazilian was quick to grasp the opportunity.
“My boat is at the disposal of the Senhor,” he said. “It is a good
boat, very seaworthy, and does not pitch or roll badly; that is
important, for the river is so enormous and storms come up suddenly.
Where do you want to go?”
“How much, by the day?” David countered.
“Sixty milreis. I will go with you and run the launch myself.”
David hesitated for a moment, as if pondering the proposition. Sixty
milreis equalled twelve dollars.
“Well,” he said thoughtfully, “your price is pretty high but if the boat
is extra good I guess I will take it. I want to start tomorrow.”
“How far do you want to go? I must know on account of the provisions.”
“How far can you go in one day?”
“Eighty or a hundred kilometers.”
“We can make it in a day then.”
“I shall be ready tomorrow, at any time you say,” the Brazilian said
with finality.
David could have shouted for joy. At last he had found the way.
“I think an early start is best, don’t you?” he said as calmly as he
could. “Six o’clock will be all right. So get everything ready today and
then there will be no delays in the morning.”
“Very good. Now, exactly where do you want to go?”
Dark clouds again appeared on David’s horizon.
“To one of the ranches along the river,” he replied quickly.
“Yes, but just where? There are several and how will I know which one is
the right one?”
“It makes no difference, as I am paying by the day. If it takes a little
over one day I will pay you for two whole days.”
“That part of it is all right. But I am compelled to make out papers for
the port officials when I carry passengers.”
“Make them when you get back. Then you will know just what to say.” The
situation was desperate for David.
“I could do that,” he said thoughtfully, and again David felt elated.
But after a moment the Brazilian continued, “There is only one place on
the whole river to which I can take no one.”
“What place is that?” with bated breath.
“Las Palmas. That is the one ranch where a landing is forbidden.”
“Why? That is the very spot I am bound for.”
“I am sorry, but as I said, I cannot take you there. The owner is a
foreigner. He is very terrible,” the Brazilian explained. “Nobody dares
stop there without a written permit. It is all very mysterious and you
should hear the tales that are told about the happenings at Las Palmas.”
David tried to laugh; he felt more like crying.
“It is different in my case,” he stammered. “I am expected there.
Arrangements were made by cable for them to meet me here but there was
some misunderstanding about the date. You will be taking no chances.”
“You do not know that outfit or you would not talk like that. I will not
go.”
“I will give you twice your regular price.”
“Not for a million milreis! What good would they do me after I was full
of bullets or poisoned arrows?” The shop-keeper was firm.
“Are they really so bad as all that?” David asked incredulously.
“Worse. Much worse. Once the government threatened to send soldiers
there to investigate things and they sent back word to come on with the
whole army but to bid it good-bye first for they would never see any
part of it again. So you see what kind of people you are dealing with.”
“All right,” David assumed an indifferent air. “If you don’t want my
money there are others who do.”
“Yes, Senhor. They are welcome to it.”
Seeing that argument was useless, David took his departure and went to
the second man on his list.
The negotiations proceeded smoothly as before until it became necessary
to disclose his destination. Then the Brazilian absolutely refused to go
any further with the matter. Nor could he be swayed from his
determination. He would go anywhere, even to Santa Isabel or the
Cassiquiare that connects the Rio Negro with the Orinoco--trips of many
weeks’ duration. But to Las Palmas? “Never!” most emphatically.
David was more crestfallen than ever as he went in search of the third
man. “There is something very mysterious about all this,” he thought.
“If it is really such an awful place I had better keep away from it.
But I have to see it first. I can leave if I don’t like it--that is, if
I ever get there.”
The interview with launch owner number three was shorter than the other
two. This man was gruff, even discourteous, and wanted to know first of
all where he wanted to go. And when David told him, he simply shrugged
his shoulders, said “No,” and walked away.
There were still others to be seen, but David decided that he had had
enough for one day. He walked to the river and looked across the broad
expanse of water, ruffled by the breeze, muddy, and gliding along
majestically and silently as if fully aware of its awe-inspiring
grandeur and power. Where did all that water come from? Where was it
going? What secrets were locked up in the pitiless flood? What strange
and unknown denizens lurked in its dark depths? And, what treasures were
strewn upon the bottom of the bed over which this torrent rushed,
heedlessly, relentlessly and everlastingly? Day and night, rain or
shine--it was always the same, oblivious to all things save only the
fulfilment of some mission on which it was always hurrying, hurrying,
yet seemed never to accomplish. Men might come and go--all men might
come and go--but what of it? Countless numbers had done that very thing
along its unreckoned shores and not a few of them had been engulfed in
the heartless waters. Thousands of years old, it was nevertheless young.
When other ages had passed there would be still no traces of age or
decay. Always the same--always the same.
Such were the thoughts that surged through David’s mind as he gazed at
the wide river, with the tiny waves laving his feet. They gave him an
uncomfortable feeling such as he had not experienced before. He admired
the stream for its enormity and respected its untold might; but he was
not so sure that he liked it.
Numbers of dugouts, _batalaos_ and other craft were tied up along the
bank. The idea came to him suddenly. If he could not hire a launch, why
not take one of these? The trip would require more time and be less
comfortable, but these things would be minor considerations.
He approached a group of men near one of the batalaos and asked guarded
questions as to the uses to which it was put. And then he swung the
conversation to navigation in general on the river; to the country
bordering the stream and to kindred topics, and so secured a good deal
of information that was of value to him.
He learned, for instance, that the craft was sea-worthy and was used on
the longest journeys, frequently of months’ duration. That travelling in
a batalao was a slow process unless the wind held out when sails were
used to advantage; during the intervals of calm, oars or poles were used
and even long-handled hooks to catch in the overhanging vegetation. Last
of all, in answer to his question as to whether he could rent or buy
such a craft, he was told that it was probably impossible to do either.
All of them were owned by the proprietors of rubber concessions or
similar ventures, and were employed in their service exclusively,
excepting only a few in the possession of professional rivermen; these
latter were usually under contract to some _patron_ and were engaged in
some private pursuit such as fishing or freighting, which they could not
desert.
That was the last straw. As David walked away he began to believe that
he should never reach Las Palmas.
“Luck is certainly against me,” he murmured. “I’ll flip a coin to see
what I’ll do. If it’s heads I will stay and keep on trying and if it’s
tails I’ll--I’ll stay anyway. There must be a way of getting to that
place; but I haven’t thought of it. The way will come to me--if I wait
long enough.”
And come it did, sooner than he expected. The very next day the
opportunity presented itself in the guise of a very large batalao that
swept down the river, manned by twenty swarthy oarsmen, and joined the
collection of other boats at the landing.
Somehow, that outfit was different from the others. The men did not look
like the sailors along the waterfront. They spoke a different language
and the Brazilians on shore did not greet them with the usual cries and
banterings.
David was interested in the new arrivals at once. “The way to find out
things is to ask questions,” he thought. “I will find out about them.”
He did not go to the man in charge of the batalao, but to one of the
Brazilians to whom he had spoken on several other occasions.
The boat had come from Venezuela, he learned, by way of the Cassiquiare
that connects the Orinoco with the Rio Negro of the Amazon side. The men
were Venezuelans and were traders who plied their calling along the
great rivers, visiting all the settlements and even the solitary huts,
buying native produce and selling provisions, dry goods, hardware and
ammunition. They travelled in a leisurely manner and knew more about the
rivers and their navigation than any other persons. With them, time was
no object and only when their stock of goods was on the verge of
exhaustion, or when they had accumulated a cargo of native products to
sell, did they make for the nearest market and base of supply. That was
why they had come to Manaos now--to dispose of vanilla beans, copaiba
oil, gold nuggets and a number of other things and to replenish their
supply of trading articles; for now they were going to the rubber camps
of the Upper Amazon, this being the season of harvest of that product.
To accomplish the double object of their visit would require at least a
week, probably two.
Much to his delight, David found that the pilot of the new boat had a
fair knowledge of the Portuguese language--better than his own, in
fact--and he struck up an acquaintance with him at once; but he did not
hurry matters. There was plenty of time to cultivate friendship, and
haste might cause him to be suspected of some ulterior motive.
David called at the wharf daily and finally the captain accepted his
invitation and returned the visits, even remaining to dinner at the inn.
They attended a performance at the Teatro Nacional later and then were
firm friends.
When the craft was about ready to depart, ten days later, David suddenly
announced to Don Marco, for that was the captain’s name, that he would
accompany him on the trip up the river. The latter was at first
surprised and then amused; it seemed a joke; but when David insisted
that he was in earnest he was pleased. Only one thing puzzled him; he
was not equipped to carry passengers. The crew ate almost anything,
slept anywhere and shifted for itself.
David assured Don Marco that he should be contented with the same
conditions. He expected no special consideration. He would even help
with the work if desirable and would go as one of the party.
“If you will do that,” the captain said at last, “I shall certainly be
glad to have you. But how will you get back? We may not touch at Manaos
again for a year, perhaps longer.”
“That will be all right,” David replied. “You will stop at all the
settlements and ranches----”
“Yes. We miss none of them.”
“Then I can stop off at one of them when I have seen enough of the
river. It may be in a few days or it may be longer, according to how
fast we travel.”
“Splendid. Get your things together and I will send a _mozo_ for them
this afternoon. You will need a hammock, a mosquito net, and a blanket.
Take anything else you want to.”
David hurried away and purchased the necessary articles. In addition,
he also bought chocolate and a few other things he thought would be
necessary.
For him the tide had turned. For once he was without misgivings. At last
he was about to embark on the great river; it was the beginning of a
long voyage, but he was eager to entrust himself to the whims of the
mighty stream to be wafted wherever fate decreed--as a chip drifts and
eddies in obedience to the unseen forces that control its destiny.
CHAPTER VI
HARPOONING A RIVER MONSTER
The man came, as promised, and carried the baggage from the inn to the
boat. David had never lost sight of the fact that his belongings must be
kept at the minimum; but he had added to them constantly--the hammock
and net, for instance, and while all the articles were necessary ones,
they increased the sum total until they now filled a large suit case and
a bag.
He followed the sailor as soon as he could settle his account and mail a
few letters he had written the night before.
It was still early in the morning. The batalao, which bore the name
Elisa Ana in black letters on both sides, was scheduled to start before
noon. But there were innumerable things to be attended to at the last
minute. Don Marco made several trips into the city for things he had
forgotten. Then the sailors went for personal supplies of matches and
tobacco, which they might have purchased long before. And when, at three
in the afternoon, everything was apparently in readiness, it was
discovered that one of the men was missing. Two of the others were sent
to find him but the trio did not show up until six o’clock. The captain
was furious and berated them soundly, for now it was too late to start
that day, but they would get under way very early the following morning.
They were all required to remain aboard that night. David swung his
hammock in a corner indicated by Don Marco and rigged his net over it.
The heat was stifling and, worse still, the hammock was most
uncomfortable; it sagged low in the middle while the ends were up high,
so that David had to lie on his back with his body bent like a bow. He
tossed about for a while and finally decided that if he was to secure
any sleep that night it would have to be elsewhere than in the hammock,
so he clambered out and stretched himself on the bare boards of the
little forward deck.
Don Marco had observed this action and asked the reason for it.
“I can’t sleep all doubled up in the hammock,” David explained. “The
ends must be too close together, because my head and feet are way up in
the air.”
“You don’t know how to use it,” the captain said with a laugh. “I will
show you. Look! You have to lie crosswise, not in a straight line with
the hammock.”
David tried it, lying diagonally with his head in the upper right-hand
corner and his feet in the lower left-hand corner. The effect was
magical. The hammock straightened out flat and he was very comfortable.
The crew was active early the next morning--long before daylight broke
over the river. The cook had kindled a fire on a box of sand in the bow
while the others squatted around him watching, and conversing in loud
voices. When the water was bubbling he produced a container that looked
like a very large pipe and filled it with leaves out of a bag.
David, looking on, thought it was some kind of a pipe and tobacco, and
was therefore surprised to see the man pour the steaming water into it.
Then a short stem was inserted in the top opening and the cook handed it
to the captain, who proceeded to draw up the liquor through the tube.
When he had drunk all of it the cook refilled the bowl with water and
brought it over to David.
“What is it?” the latter asked. “Coffee?”
“No! _Yerba maté_, or Brazilian tea. It is very good. Try it.”
David did not like the idea of drinking through the tube that had
already been used, but did not want to appear churlish, so took a sip.
The concoction tasted bitter and astringent. He handed back the
_bombilla_, for that was the name of the outfit. Don Marco and the men
laughed.
“He does not like our drink,” they said, “but he will get used to it. It
is very delicious and a good medicine, too, but one has to learn to
drink it.”
The cook prepared coffee for David while the rest of the party continued
to fill the bombilla with hot water and to pass it around from one to
the other until each had had it at least half a dozen times.
Occasionally it was recharged with fresh leaves, but all drank through
the same tube.
Later in the day Don Marco told David a good deal about yerba maté,
which seemed to be a kind of national beverage in Brazil and some of
the neighboring countries, liked by rich and poor and almost universally
taken from a common container such as he had seen that morning.
The plant from which the leaves are taken is a species of South American
holly growing abundantly in parts of Brazil, the Argentine and Paraguay,
and remaining green the year round. They are gathered while small, when
they are of a light green color, by cutting the branches from the plant
and heaping them in piles to dry, after which they are shaken over a
cloth to catch them as they fall from the withered stems.
This tea had been the principal beverage of the Guaraní Indians when the
country was first settled, and the invaders found it so excellent that
they followed the custom of the aborigines in drinking it.
David became so interested in yerba maté after learning these facts that
he bought an outfit of the trader for his personal use and soon learned
to drink the native tea in preference to coffee.
The morning cup being over, the sailors brought in the rope hawser and
took up the long-handled oars. Soon they had rowed the craft far out
into the river, where the current was strongest, for they were now
heading down the Rio Negro to its junction with the upper Amazon. A sail
was hoisted and as there was a brisk wind they travelled at a rapid rate
and reached the Amazon in less than two hours’ time.
David now had ample time to examine the boat on which he had been
accepted as a fellow voyager. It was large, very large, in fact, for
such a craft, being fifty feet long and twelve feet wide, but of very
shallow draft. The bottom and sides were made of thick boards spiked to
heavy, hand-hewn timbers. There was a small deck forward and another
aft, the spaces below being used for storage, and over each was a small,
rounded shelter of palm leaves.
Along each side was a runway of boards like a narrow outrigger on which
the men walked when poling the boat through shallow water.
In the center was a board structure which made the batalao look like a
long houseboat. This was the store and was filled with provisions and
merchandise placed on shelves and in heaps on the floor. Almost
everything of value to the dwellers in the interior was carried,
including tinned foods, rice, beans, dried fish, oil, cloth, fish-hooks,
knives and matches. Also tobacco, maté, and quantities of the staple
food along the Amazon--farinha.
The men next attracted David’s attention. Although he had seen most of
them during the previous days he had not had the opportunity to study
them closely. There were twenty; strong, sun-burnt, good-natured and
ragged, but not very energetic. However, when Don Marco shouted an order
it was quickly carried out. They either respected or feared him--it was
impossible to tell which.
As the boat, aided by the current, sped along, the sailors busied
themselves tidying up things in general, and looking to the
paraphernalia they would need during the journey up-stream, which would
begin shortly.
The river was but slightly ruffled, the dark-colored water speeding
along in a broad belt between high, rolling banks covered with dense
forest.
There were many other craft on the river, including a tramp freighter
from some foreign port, launches, and a number of huge dugout canoes
laden with bananas, nuts and other produce on its way to the city
markets.
The crews always called to one another if the outfits passed within
hailing distance, each asking as many questions as possible as to
destination, business and other things, before conversation was checked
by the growing distance between them.
As they neared the junction of the two streams the course of the boat
was altered, for after entering the larger river they would journey
up-stream; they would be compelled to hug closely the forested bank
where the current was slack, if there were no wind.
The vista of the two rivers, joining their waters to form a mightier
stream visible below and appearing like a ruffled sea, was majestic.
Also, it was terrific in its very grandeur. The dark water of the Rio
Negro did not at once mingle with or become absorbed by the muddy flood
of the Solimoes, but the two ran side by side a distance of many miles,
the sharp distinguishing line clearly visible, before merging their
identities.
The scene was a wild and dismal one and David was impressed with his own
littleness and that of those about him. The contrast had not seemed so
great from the high deck of the steamer when he came up the river; but
in the comparatively frail shell of the batalao it was different. The
craft seemed so small, so helpless on the broad, billowy expanse of
hurrying water. A rowboat in mid-ocean would not seem more out of place.
The sailors, apparently, were well versed in the ways of navigating the
great rivers. They handled the sails and the rudder in a skilful manner
and were soon tacking up-stream with a cross wind. Progress was now more
slow, and when, an hour later, the wind failed so that the sails hung
limply in the rigging, they were furled and made fast.
The water near the bank was shallow--not over four feet deep and
generally a good deal less. Long poles were brought out; they had
cross-pieces padded with cloth on one end and looked like tall crutches.
Each man took one and then the crew was divided into two sections, one
of which went to each outrigger board along the sides. The sharp ends of
the poles were thrust to the sandy bottom while the men braced their
shoulders against the padded ends and then pushed, running back along
the boards in an even line. This propelled the boat along fairly
rapidly, but it was hard work.
The sailors pushed the heavy craft forward with the poles throughout the
remainder of the day, stopping only at noon for their ration of farinha
and an hour’s rest.
Towards late afternoon they reached a section of the river flanked by
wide marshes. Great masses of vegetation floated on the surface of the
stream, such as wild lettuce, water hyacinths with inflated stems and
blue flowers in spikes, lilies, and a host of other plants. The giant
_Victoria Regia_ margined the sheets of varied green in immense clumps
and ribbons. Each leaf of this queen of water lilies was from six to
eight feet in diameter, with upturned edges so that they resembled a
cake-tin--but for their enormous size. Heavy veins and midribs supported
the leaves with their sturdy framework; they were covered with long
spines and thus served not only to support but also to protect the
tender green webbing of the leaves that stretched between them, as if to
discourage any familiarity with a member of a royal family. The flowers
bobbing here and there among the massive foliage were not larger than a
dinner plate and of a bluish color. Although both leaves and blossoms
rested lightly on the surface of the water, they were securely anchored
in place with thick, cable-like stems, and roots that penetrated the
murky bottom a distance of many feet.
Before long they reached a small creek that served as an outlet for some
lagoon hidden beyond the forest walls. As they entered the heretofore
quiet water it was churned into a frenzy by long, dark forms that darted
out of the narrow opening and made for the river. They passed on each
side of the batalao, cutting the surface with broad backs and leaving a
perceptible swell in their wake.
“What are they, sharks?” David asked in surprise.
“No!” Don Marco said. “They are called pirarucú and are the great cod of
the Amazon.”
“But what monsters! I had no idea there were such large fish in any
river. They looked longer than a man and must weigh a hundred pounds.”
“Ha! They were twice as big as a man and would weigh five or six hundred
pounds each. You shall see for yourself, if you stay long enough,” the
captain said with a chuckle. “The river is full of them. Perhaps we may
get one now, for this is a good place to fish. We will anchor the boat
and try, anyway. The fish--many kinds--go up into the lagoon to feed, so
they have to pass through this little channel both going and coming
back. The pirarucú were just about to enter, but we frightened them, so
they rushed back into the open water.”
“Do you think they will come back?” David asked eagerly.
“Yes, if we keep still.”
“I wish I could catch one; but nobody would believe me if I did--and
told about it when I got back home.” Then brightening, “There is a
camera in my suitcase. I could take a picture of it; that would fix
them.”
“You would have to catch it first,” Don Marco reminded him.
“Let me have a hook and line. I will try it anyway.”
“Very good! I will give you a hook and line, so you can fish for pacú
with the rest of us. The pirarucú is so large you must use a harpoon to
get it. I will keep one handy; perhaps we shall have good luck. But in
the meantime we will catch pacú, because they are a sure thing.”
They had anchored where the channel was narrowest. The men unwound the
lines and baited the hooks with plump grains of maize that had been
soaked until soft. Scarcely had the ripples made by the plunges of the
heavy sinkers died down when the fish began to bite.
They struck with a powerful rush and dragged the line through the water
with a burst of speed that was surprising. The men swung the poles
upward to hook the fish securely and then hauled in the lines with their
hands. Soon the silvery fish, nearly two feet long and very broad, were
pulled aboard in numbers and thrown on the decks.
David was so absorbed in watching the others that he almost forgot his
own line. He felt a sudden tug and recovered just in time to prevent the
loss of his pole. He followed the example of the others and soon landed
the glistening pacú. Catching fish in this manner was not much of a
sporting proposition, but it was not without its thrill of excitement.
The sharp eyes of Don Marco caught a slight ripple in the water ten
yards to their rear. At his word of warning the men stopped talking and
quietly pulled in their lines.
The pirarucú were returning to their feeding-grounds. Slowly they came,
and cautiously, swimming just beneath the surface and looking like
shadows. The school was a large one, for the water seemed alive with
the giant fish. The captain had noiselessly come to David’s side and
placed a short iron harpoon in his hand.
“Throw it just as you would a stick and aim about a foot ahead of the
fish,” he said.
A few yards from the boat the foremost of the school stopped. David
could clearly distinguish the trim outlines of the broad, dark backs,
the large eyes, the gaping mouths and the gently waving fins. What
monsters they were! And how he longed to possess one of them!
Without warning the fish disappeared. They had become suspicious of the
boat floating in their path and had simply melted into the depths below.
Don Marco motioned for continued silence. He knew the ways of the
creatures; before many minutes had passed they reappeared as suddenly as
they had gone. But now they were on all sides of the batalao. Their
fears had vanished and they moved as a unit into the passageway.
David held the harpoon firmly in his right hand; at his feet lay the
coil of thick cord that was fastened to it. A small keg was perched on
the outrigger board; it would serve as a buoy to locate the fish when it
had become exhausted.
When one of the passing host was almost below him David let go the
harpoon with all his strength. There was a splash, followed immediately
by other splashing all around them as the entire school sounded.
The line rushed overboard and cut the water with a hissing sound; a
moment later the keg followed with a splash and began a wild rush into
the river. It was a
[Illustration: A huge silvery form ... leaped out of the water, rolled
and wallowed convulsively, and sank from sight.]
great sight to see the half-submerged buoy tearing a wide path through
the muddy water, towed by the terrified monster deep below.
“The _curare_!” Don Marco shouted; but the men had already untied the
dugout canoe that trailed behind the batalao. The captain, David and two
of the sailors jumped into it and they were off after the fleeing keg.
“He can’t keep it up very long,” Don Marco panted as they dug deep their
paddles and sped along. “A few kilometers at most and the drag will tire
him out. He must be enormous--look how the keg is travelling. If the
line should break he will be lost.”
After running downstream several hundred yards the float came to a stop.
“It snapped, or the harpoon did not hold. He’s gone,” were the first
thoughts that came to the pursuers. But a few minutes later it moved
again, this time heading upstream. That was fortunate for the men but
unfortunate for the fish, for now it had to fight not only the current
but pull the hampering weight against the stream also. And it was coming
straight toward the canoe. Soon it was abreast, so the paddlers turned
the craft and now had no difficulty in keeping up with it.
Bit by bit the fish weakened and after half an hour the keg stood still.
“Now we must get it quickly, before it can rest,” the captain called.
When they reached the float he leaned over, caught the line with his
hands and began to pull it in, not hurriedly, but with an even, steady
movement.
This, however, gave new life to the fish. It dashed away, downstream,
but the man retained possession of the cord and the canoe tore through
the water at great speed, her nose ploughing so deeply that it was all
but submerged.
The men dropped their paddles and began to bail out the water that
poured in in a steady stream; but soon it became apparent that their
efforts could not stem the flood that was rising about their feet. If
the fish did not slacken its pace soon they would have to release the
line or the canoe would be swamped.
But the great pirarucú was rapidly exhausting the last vestige of its
strength in pulling the dugout. It was gradually coming nearer the
surface; and then a huge, silvery form leaped out of the water, rolled
and wallowed convulsively, and sank from sight.
Don Marco rapidly took in the line and in a moment they had reached the
spot where the last ripples were dying in a widening circle; soon the
prize had been brought up from the muddy depths and wallowed helplessly
beside the boat.
What a beauty it was! And what a monster! A line was made fast just in
back of the fins and they towed it back to the batalao, where it was
hoisted aboard.
As the great fish lay on the deck, David surveyed it with a triumphant
gleam in his eyes. It was fully eight feet long and the captain said it
would weigh more than four hundred pounds. The glistening body was a
foot and a half broad across the back and two feet wide along the
greater part of its length. Silver scales the size of a dollar covered
it and those on the lower half were margined with scarlet. The mouth was
very large and wide open; the fish was dead.
After examining it for some time David’s feeling of exultation gave way
to pity for the beautiful creature. It was of such great size, so
majestic, and seemed like a fitting denizen of the Amazon,
representative of the mystery and the wonder of the mighty river. It
seemed so out of place on the deck of the boat.
“That is a beauty,” he commented, “but one is enough for a long time. I
am not going to kill another unless it is needed very badly. What are we
going to do with it?”
After taking a number of photographs of the fish, David watched the
sailors dress it. Then they cut it into slabs and sprinkled salt over
the pieces, which they hung up to dry.
“It will keep months now,” Don Marco said. “We shall need most of it,
and what is left can be sold further up the river.”
They rowed and poled upstream a short distance above the mouth of the
creek and anchored for the night.
CHAPTER VII
WHEN THE RIVER RAN RIOT
There were a number of small settlements scattered along both banks of
the river, but the trader did not stop at any one of them during the
first days after leaving Manaos. He said they were too near the city, to
which the people made frequent trips, so they naturally purchased their
supplies during these visits, knew the market value of everything, and
would not pay the prices he was compelled to charge. It was further
upstream, where the inhabitants were more isolated and the distance too
great for them to make frequent excursions to Manaos, that he expected
to glean his harvest.
The second day passed without incident. In one stretch, where the water
was too deep for poling, the sailors got out long-handled hooks. They
caught these in the overhanging branches and then walked along the board
runways, but now they pulled as they walked instead of pushing, as they
did when poling, and only half could engage in the work, as there was
forest on only one side of them. Therefore, they were divided into two
parties of six each, one resting while the other trudged along the wet,
slippery boards.
It seemed to David as if the branches overhead harbored all the insects
in the world. Each time the hooks were thrust into them a shower of
ants, leaf hoppers and a multitude of other winged and crawling
creatures fell into the boat.
The men seemed not to mind the hordes of creeping things streaming down
their arms and bare backs, beyond an occasional exclamation of annoyance
or some jesting remark when one of their number was deluged with an
exceptionally large number. But when on the third day the hooks stirred
up a nest of the fierce maribundi wasps their tolerant attitude quickly
changed, for the insects were quick to resent the interference with
their domestic affairs.
Several of the wasps darted out of the dense foliage, their red bodies
gleaming like flying sparks. They made straight for the men and
simultaneously there rose a chorus of wild screams mingled with the
clatter and splash of poles that fell from hands now occupied in
striking at the darting specks or in clutching madly at their bodies.
David came to the door of the storeroom to see what had happened; he was
amazed at the strange antics of the sailors, who were now making for the
opening in which he was standing. He was not kept in suspense long.
If a red-hot needle had been thrust into him the effect could not have
been more painful. One of the wasps had discovered David and had plunged
its fiery dagger into his arm.
He dashed back into the storeroom with a cry of pain, and the men
followed in quick succession. They slammed the door as soon as the last
one had entered, and at last they were safe from the attackers.
The batalao, left to its own devices, began to drift downstream, but
none sought to stop it. The crew, packed tight between the boxes and
bales, was too much occupied with a more vital matter, and some of the
men who had been stung a number of times were screaming and moaning in
agony, while from others came not a sound--they had lost consciousness.
David had never suffered such intense pain in his life. His arm throbbed
and burned and was rapidly swelling to huge proportions. At times he was
on the point of fainting and grasped the nearest support to keep from
falling to the floor. The stifling heat in the room added to the
suffering of all.
“Open the door!” Don Marco shouted. He had come through the encounter
unscathed. “Get out into the fresh air,” he added; “we have drifted past
the nest; the danger is over.”
Someone obeyed the first order mechanically and those who could walk
went out upon the deck. They presented a sorry appearance. Some had been
stung on the hands; others on the face or bare backs, the exact spots
being marked by rising protuberances of an angry red color.
In the meantime David was wondering what he could do in the matter of
giving relief. He thought of iodine; that would help. Then he remembered
the snake-bite lancet in his pocket--a hard rubber device that looked
like a short fountain pen, with a sharp steel blade in one end and a
pocket of permanganate of potash crystals in the other. He would try
that, on his own arm first.
After opening the wound with a quick thrust of the keen blade he rubbed
a quantity of the dry powder into it. Then he painted the whole area
with iodine. Relief from the burning pain followed quickly; there
remained only the dull throbbing.
Encouraged, he began working on the sailors. They submitted to his
ministrations and were grateful for the help he gave them.
“The maribundi wasps are terrible creatures,” Don Marco said that night.
“I am more afraid of them than of anything else in the jungle; they are
even worse than snakes, because there are more of them and it is
impossible to escape from them when they are encountered. If a man is
stung four or five times, he dies. And only one sting will often make a
person sick for weeks.”
They had anchored so soon as it was possible to muster enough hands to
row the boat to the bank.
“Are they very common along the river?” David asked anxiously.
“Yes, here and on the Orinoco too; and not only along the water, either.
One is liable to run into them in the forest and in the clearings alike.
They are quick to attack the moment they are disturbed. You must give me
some of your remedy, for it is the best I have ever found. But for your
quick work some of the men would have died.”
The journey was not continued until two days later; the men had
recovered sufficiently by that time to resume their duties. They were
obliged to use the hooks, as before, and could only trust to luck for
the future.
That day they stopped at several clearings and traded with the settlers.
The places were interesting--like notches hewn into the heavy jungle,
openings with ragged edges where the vegetation was advancing in solid
formation to reclaim its own. There was abundant other evidence that the
fight of man against the forest was incessant. Second-growth sprouts
sprang up in the yuca fields in back of the huts and unless they were
cut down promptly they soon formed dense thickets that smothered the
cultivated plants. Besides the yucas, from which the farinha was made,
there were clumps of bananas, plantains, sugar cane and tree melons;
also small plantations of coffee trees. These were from ten to fifteen
feet high, round and bushy, and covered with clusters of small red
fruits. Each of the little spheres contained two coffee beans, their
flat side resting face to face, and the whole surrounded by a thin,
sweet pulp. There were tall breadfruit trees near the huts, their broad
leaves providing shade and the great cylindrical green fruits serving as
an addition to the food supply.
The Brazilian cherries interested David greatly. They were about the
size of the ones he was accustomed to at home, and of the same bright
red color, but had deep grooves in them from stem to tip, so that a
cross section would have the outline of a star.
Most of the people were squatters in the wilderness. They were
Portuguese who had cleared their little patches of land and were
subsisting on the bounty of the soil and the river. They worked little,
except in fighting the forest, as all vegetation grew so luxuriantly and
yielded such abundant crops that little cultivation was needed to
produce all the food they required. They were easy-going, good-natured,
and spent most of their time in their hammocks, conversing and sipping
tea or coffee.
A few of the stations, however, were owned by residents of Manaos, who
visited them occasionally and maintained hired help permanently to
cultivate the soil and care for a few cows, pigs and fowls.
The dwellings were all of similar construction--flimsy structures with
bamboo walls, earth floors and roofs of palm leaves. The tropical
luxuriance of the foliage all around them, however, gave them a
picturesque appearance so that they seemed to fit properly into their
surroundings. A more substantial type of house would have been
impracticable and out of place in such a climate.
“Are there no large ranches along the river?” David asked, after leaving
one of the clearings.
“Yes, there are a few, but they have been started very recently. Each
time I come back this way I find a few new ones, but none of them is
very large. We expect to reach one of them tomorrow; I just heard about
it in Manaos.”
“What is it called?”
“Las Palmas. The owner is one of your countrymen. They say he has an
enormous ranch in the Argentine and is going to make Las Palmas the
best and largest in the Upper Amazon. But it will be hard work and I
doubt if he will succeed.”
“Do you know anything about the owner? What did they say about him in
Manaos?” David asked eagerly.
“Nothing much except what I told you.”
“That might be a good place for me to stop,” David suggested.
“Tired of the river already?” Don Marco asked in surprise.
“No! Just beginning to become interested.”
“Then it must be that you do not like our company. I am sorry,” and the
captain seemed offended.
“No! Nothing of the kind,” David hastened to assure him. “You have been
mighty good to me and I wish I could stay with you on the whole trip.
But my time is limited and I want to see some of the ranch life. To tell
the truth, that is the reason I came to Brazil.”
“As you wish. But I shall be sorry to see you go.” There was a note of
real regret in Don Marco’s voice. “It has been a pleasure to have you
and I have enjoyed your company.”
They reached the landing just before noon of the following day.
“This must be the spot, but where is the ranch?” the Venezuelan asked,
greatly puzzled, as he looked up the narrow trail leading from the high
bank straight through the heavy forest. Aside from this path there was
no evidence of life in the neighborhood.
“I know the river too well to be mistaken,” he continued. “This is the
spot they described to me.”
But the tall, dark trees standing like sentinels over the narrow lane
men’s hands had made at their foot were grim and silent, as if guarding
some secret.
“It may be back from the river a short distance,” David suggested.
“It must be. But a ranch should be on the water, or very near to it.
That is the custom here. They have boats and launches at Las Palmas, but
where are they? This is the landing. We shall see!”
Then, calling to two of his men, Don Marco continued:
“You, Pedro and José, walk down the trail and see how far it is to the
house. Come back at once after you find it. Do not tell anyone your
business or mine.”
The men departed, soon disappearing among the shadows cast by the
tangled branches overhead. Some of the other sailors began to fish,
while David got together his things preparatory to leaving. The cook
prepared slices of the salted pirarucú for the departing guest, for
David had found the flesh delicious and had said so on several
occasions. It was just as well that the cook had taken for granted that
the remarks referred to his cooking, rather than to the natural quality
of the fish, for he showed appreciation in various ways, the most
acceptable of which was the frequent preparation of those things David
liked best to eat.
Hour after hour passed, but the two men did not return. Some of the men
waiting on the boat began to fear that they had lost their way or had
met with a mishap. And David, remembering the many things he had heard
about Las Palmas and the fate that would befall anyone attempting to
enter the place, began to wonder if he were not to blame, for he had
failed to warn them of their danger. It was now too late for regrets,
for the men had been gone more than three hours.
“Why don’t we go after them?” he finally asked the captain. “I will go.
They may be lost.”
“Impossible,” Don Marco returned. “Both are good woodsmen and know how
to find their way.”
“Could they have been attacked by Indians or some animal?”
“It is possible, but I think not. They know how to fight.”
“Then why don’t they return?”
“_Quien sabe!_ We will wait a while longer and see what happens.”
After another hour had gone by the two men returned, tired and mopping
the perspiration from their faces.
“Well?” their employer asked.
“_Caramba!_” one panted. “Such a place! _Caramba!_”
“Yes,” the other added, “such a place.”
“What is the matter with it?” impatiently. “You act like a pair of
dunces.”
“Miserable,” the first man said. “I never saw anything like it. First
you have to walk your legs off to get there, and when you arrive you
find it is for nothing.”
“That is the truth,” from the second man, “and the trail is terrible.
We had to cross streams on log bridges, wade through ponds filled with
_yacarés_, and splash through mud nearly up to our knees. _Caramba!_”
“But what did you find out?” Don Marco asked impatiently.
“After we had been walking several hours--long after leaving the
forest--a man on horseback rode up to us and asked us what we wanted.
There were houses and sheds not far ahead and he came from that
direction. When we told him he began shooting at us and chased us away.
“We came back faster than we went--much faster, or we should not be here
yet. There were Indians in the woods, too, but we escaped them.”
“But did you tell them you only wanted to find out how far----”
“We tried to, but the barbarian gave us only a half minute’s start
before he began to shoot. We could not talk and run at the same time.”
“You two cowards,” said the captain in disgust. “We have lost a whole
afternoon on your account.”
“Anybody would have acted as we did.”
“Perhaps the man was joking,” David ventured. He was far from being
comfortable.
“We could not read his mind. We know what he said and did, and that was
not very funny,” they said hastily.
“What kind of a place was it--I mean the houses?” David continued. “Did
it look like a real ranch?”
“It did not look like much--from a distance,” one of the men replied.
“But we did not get very near to it.”
“I suppose I shall have to find out for myself then,” he said with a
sigh.
“Are you going to stop here anyway?” asked the captain in surprise.
“Yes. You will have to leave me here.”
“It will be a long walk--and no telling what will happen when you get
there, according to the report of these two.”
“Well, I will have to take a chance. I can follow the trail and go
slowly. I am sure they will not try to chase me away.”
David wanted to start right away, but the captain would not hear of it.
It was too late in the day to undertake such a long tramp through the
forest. And for one unfamiliar with the country the attempt to spend the
night under such circumstances was ill-advised, to say the least, for
the trail was indistinct and difficult to follow even in the daytime.
David reluctantly agreed to the force of these arguments, and as the
boat was to remain there anyway for the night he decided that he would
stay aboard.
After supper they rowed a short distance into the stream and anchored.
It was well that he did not ignore Don Marco’s advice not to attempt to
spend the night alone in that, to him, unknown jungle, for the onrush of
darkness had scarcely enveloped the earth when one of the terrific
storms, as greatly feared as they are common on the Amazon, swooped out
of the west and for two hours held land and river helpless in its
merciless grasp.
The onslaught came suddenly. Before the first warning drops had awakened
the sleepers, a wall of wind and falling water swept down the river and
struck the batalao with such force that it nearly capsized.
The men sprang from their hammocks and crowded into the storeroom, where
they were held prisoner while the storm spent its fury.
The downpour thundered steadily over their heads and here and there a
small rivulet found its way through the roof. Below them, the waves
hissed and boomed as they dashed against the sides of the dancing craft.
And from the forest came an occasional roar, followed by a crash which
told the fate of some great tree that had succumbed to the force of the
gale.
Although sweltering in the close atmosphere of their quarters the men
were in no danger, for thanks to their preparedness the boat was far
enough from the bank to prevent its grounding; and the anchor held fast.
After a while the rain stopped, but the wind did not die down until
daylight came. By this time the waves had attained a great height and
the boat pitched and rocked so violently that those aboard began to be
uncomfortable. All the while one other sound reached their ears above
the shrieking of the wind and the pounding of the waves. It was a dull,
muffled noise coming singly sometimes like the booming of a distant gun,
and again in a rapid succession of roars, rumblings and crashes--some
nearby, others far distant.
Daylight revealed the cause of the disturbance. The constant beating of
the waves had undermined sections of the river bank and long, narrow
strips of it were falling into the water. It was a wonderful yet
terrible sight to see the great masses of trees begin to shudder, then
bow low and finally plunge headlong into the heaving, yellow flood that
had washed the foundation from under their roots.
After this din the whole tangled mass disappeared, only to come to the
surface in a few moments to be swept downstream, the branches waving
above the angry water like so many struggling arms appealing frantically
for assistance.
Each landslide further agitated the water and added to the power of the
waves. And as the men looked up and down the broad expanse of river it
seemed as if the work of destruction must encompass all the land. But
with the coming of the sun the wind slackened and the waves subsided,
and the slides were less frequent and of smaller extent. Finally they
stopped.
Don Marco said they had witnessed a sight that was as unusual as it was
awe-inspiring. Not until days later would the last of the débris
disappear down the stream.
David took his possessions and went ashore and shortly after he had
entered the dripping forest the batalao resumed its way up the turbulent
river.
CHAPTER VIII
THE ROAD TO LAS PALMAS
That lonesome walk through the towering forest was an experience David
would never forget.
How tall the tree-trunks were and how thick and straight. It must have
taken centuries to grow to that size. On some, the lowest branches did
not start until fifty feet or more above the ground; they reached toward
and intermingled with their neighbors, forming a sturdy framework for
the canopy of leaves that shut out the sunlight except in scattered
spots where a bright shaft penetrated the thick mat and cast a dazzling,
wavering blotch on the sombre forest floor.
The steady drip of water came from overhead, and the ground underfoot
was soft and spongy from the drenching of the previous night, so that
there was not a sound as David walked rapidly up the narrow trail.
Suddenly it came upon David that the silence was not only under his
feet; it was all about him. While he had expected to find the jungle
teeming with life, there was not a sign of life. Instead of the chorus
of screams, roars and howls that should have greeted his ears there was
only the breathless silence of a vast solitude, so intense that the
beating of his own heart seemed to pound in his ears like the blows of a
sledgehammer.
The wilderness was full of life--it must be--but where was it? David
felt that inquisitive, eager, even menacing eyes were gazing at him from
places of concealment in the dense vegetation; but he could not see
their owners. This thought added to the uncanny feeling that was slowly
taking possession of him.
What if he should be charged by a jaguar? Or suppose a herd of ferocious
peccaries should surround him? The trees were too thick to be climbed.
There was no means of escape open to him.
A twig snapped in back of him. He wheeled instantly, but saw nothing.
Standing motionless, he waited a few minutes. Not a leaf stirred, but a
faint, shuffling sound reached his ears, like the footfalls of some
heavy creature stealing away. Without awaiting further developments he
opened his pack and took out his revolver; he strapped the holster to
his waist. That gave him a feeling of security and he continued the
tramp through the gloomy forest.
As time passed the pack on his back seemed to grow heavier and the
perspiration ran down his face in rivulets. Also, the parcel was a
serious impediment in crossing the numerous little streams spanned by a
single log and that, frequently, of small size.
Walking across the slippery foothold with the deep, murky water below
was precarious in itself; the pack rendered it doubly so. He walked
across the larger trunks and hitched over those of more slender
proportions.
David had just negotiated one of the latter and had stopped to readjust
the weight of his burden. A faint rustle made him turn suddenly and
look down the trail. There, not a dozen paces from the stream he had
just left, stood an Indian, a long bow in one hand, an arrow in the
other. The brown skin of the savage, marked with stripes of black paint,
blended well with the sombre tree-trunks and dark foliage.
For a moment neither stirred but each gazed at the other, David in
surprise and consternation, the Indian with an air of resentment at
having been discovered. Then the latter advanced a step menacingly and
raised the bow to the level of his shoulders. David’s hand flew to the
holster on his belt and a shot, aimed high, rang out clear and sharp in
the silent forest. The Indian gave a wild yell, sprang to one side and
dashed away. The thud of his feet and the swishing of the branches were
ample proof that he had no intention of stopping in the near vicinity.
“I guess that fixed him for the present,” thought David; “but I’ll have
to hurry; he might come back with others and then it would not be so
easy to scare away the whole pack.”
A hundred yards up the trail he stopped, slipped the pack off his back,
and hid it in a mass of ferns growing between the buttressed roots of a
great tree. After that he could walk more rapidly.
When another hour had passed he noticed that the forest was becoming
more open in character. The trees were further apart and the sunlight
found its way to the ground in numerous splashes and pools of bright
light. About the same time he heard the call of a bird--the first sign
of animal life on all that long, solitary tramp. It was fortunate that
he saw the author of the sound, for it was a shrill, quavering note that
was unearthly and weird in the extreme.
The bird was of the shape and size of a guinea hen, but of a rich brown
color. It ran out into the trail just ahead of him and stood looking at
the man with bright, black eyes until he was nearly upon it, when it
flew away with a loud whirr of wings. It was a poor flyer, however, for
although it hurtled through the air at great speed, its course was
erratic; it darted one way, then another, until it dashed against a
tree-trunk and fell to the ground, where it lay fluttering. David
started toward it, but before he had covered half the distance
separating him from the now quiet creature a lithe form sprang out of
the cover on one side of the path, picked up the bird in its mouth and
darted out of view again.
The marauder was of the cat family and spotted like a leopard, though
not so large. Its sudden appearance gave David a start, for it proved
that there was life in the silent forest in spite of the hush that
prevailed. Unseen eyes and keen ears were about him; it required only
the proper combination of circumstances to bring the creatures from
their hiding-places. This thought was far from comforting and the lone
wanderer redoubled his vigilance in an effort to forestall a surprise
attack on himself.
At last the forest gave way to a scrubby growth, and this was soon
replaced by open country; that is, it seemed open in comparison to the
jungle through which David had just passed.
There were low bushes in scattered groups; between them lay grassy areas
of considerable extent. Clumps of trees stood like dark islands in the
sea of lighter green; and here and there was the glint of water--lagoons
fringed by reedy marshes.
The picture was that of a perfect wilderness, but it was an enticing
one. It bore the stamp of primeval nature and seemed pregnant with the
promise of rich rewards for the one who cared to go in quest of them.
“The ranch cannot be much farther,” David thought. “It would have to be
out in the open, of course.” And he scanned the country in all
directions for some signs of the buildings or their occupants.
But the wilderness stretched on unendingly on all sides, with only the
narrow thread of a trail to give evidence of the fact that the country
was not unknown to man.
There were other foot-paths, too, but they had been made by
animals--deer, peccaries and tapirs, and occasionally there was the
deep, broad imprint of a jaguar’s foot, or the smaller, uncertain track
of an ocelot.
Birds of many kinds dotted the sky and were spread out over the
landscape. Parrots and great macaws sped by overhead; herons and egrets
covered the trees as with a snowy mantle; and rafts of ducks floated on
the quiet water, while smaller birds dabbled among the grass and reeds
lining the lagoons. Of the latter, one kind in particular attracted
David’s attention. They had long legs and long necks and could have been
mistaken for snipe but for the fact that they seemed to run and skip
over the surface of the water with the ease of covering firm ground.
But when David drew nearer he saw that the birds had wide-spreading toes
which enabled them to use the mats of small, floating plants as a
footing. They were reluctant to fly, but when they did they fluttered
like grasshoppers, exposing a greenish patch of color in each wing, and
uttered queer, cackling, scolding notes.
Some of the smaller ponds or sloughs had begun to dry. The water that
remained was muddy and teemed with fish that had been left stranded far
inland by the flood of the last rainy season. The imprisoned creatures
were struggling frantically in the slimy liquid, dashing back and forth
in futile efforts to find an outlet into some larger and friendlier
basin. In their frenzy they attacked one another and numbers threw
themselves out upon the land, where they gasped their last. Apparently
this state of affairs had been going on for some time, for the ground
was littered with heaps of the remains in the form of white bones that
had been crushed by opossums and other nocturnal prowlers.
The depressing sight and the stench made David avoid these places by
wide detours whenever possible.
It seemed as if the trail ran on interminably, winding between the
lagoons and forest islands, traversing the highest, dryest places of the
open country, but always leading on and on. If the ranch were in the
neighborhood, there should be some indications of it. But so far neither
horses nor cattle, smoke nor houses could be seen.
David was beginning to wonder if he might not have taken some branch of
the original trail that was simply taking him deeper and deeper into the
wilderness. He stopped for a moment to consider what best had be done.
As he scanned the country his eyes caught sight of moving objects in the
distance and a first glimpse convinced him that they were horsemen. He
could have shouted for joy, for now it was but a matter of minutes until
they should see him and then they would soon take him to the ranch. It
never occurred to him that the riders might not want to see him or that
they would refuse to help him if they could not avoid him, and that,
too, in spite of the things he had been told he was to expect from the
owner of Las Palmas. Just beyond, the ground was more open; he decided
to go there and wave his hat to attract the attention of the men.
As he started through the thick grass a warning bellow from directly in
front stopped him in his tracks; he looked in the direction from which
the sound had come, but could see nothing. A moment later a second
bellow, more like a roar, reached his ears and at the same time he
caught sight of a long, waving object like the head and neck of a great
snake. Before he had time for action of any kind a huge, grayish body
leaped out of the grass and charged. It was a rhea or South America
ostrich. Onward it came with lowered head, hissing as it sped over the
ground, the short wings drooping and feathers ruffled in a terrifying
manner. It was upon David in a few seconds. The attack had been so
sudden that he had not had time to grasp his revolver; as the great bird
lunged at him he stepped aside and caught the outstretched neck in his
hands. That action, unexpected as it was new to the bird, bewildered it
and it stopped. However, the surprise of the reception lasted but a
moment.
David clung desperately to the creature’s neck. Back and forth they
struggled, the bird striking with its huge feet, beating with its wings
and bellowing in its frantic efforts to break the man’s hold.
The outcome of the struggle depended upon endurance. Sooner or later one
of the two must give out, and for a time it was impossible to guess
which would be that one. The bird was first to show signs of succumbing
to the strain. Its struggles grew weaker and finally they ceased
altogether, much to David’s relief, for he too was on the verge of
exhaustion.
When the rhea was quiet he relaxed his grasp. Instantly it again became
charged with life. It gave a powerful wrench and the thick neck slipped
from his aching fingers. But instead of renewing the attack, the bird
seemed to have but one thought, but one desire, and that was to leave
the locality as quickly as possible. It turned and fled in a series of
long strides, its head held high, wings stretched out like sails, and
feet that moved so rapidly the eye could not follow them in their
prodigious leaps.
The supposed horsemen had come nearer all the while and David now saw
that they were a flock of the ostriches, which his attacker joined, when
the entire company turned and soon disappeared in the distance.
David went to the spot where he had first sighted the bird. To his
delight he found a mound of huge eggs. They were of an oval shape,
creamy white color, glossy, and so large he could not span one with his
fingers. There were twenty of them, neatly arranged in a slight hollow
scooped in the ground. He could not take them with him, of course, on
account of their great weight and size, but thinking that he might have
need of them at some time in the near future he tore a strip of cloth
from his trousers--rent by the bird’s sharp claws during the
struggle--and tied it to the highest reed near the nest, to serve as a
marker for the spot.
Another half hour’s walk under the broiling sun and the end of the trail
was in sight. There it was at last, but it looked nothing like the
ranch-house David had pictured. Instead of the long, low, rambling
building he had expected to find, with its corrals, and groups of
saddled horses standing dejectedly under the shade trees, there was a
ramshackle structure built of bamboo poles and covered with a thatched
roof. A dozen or so smaller huts were scattered about the immediate
vicinity. Here and there grew a cluster of tall, graceful palm trees;
that was why the place was called Las Palmas.
The surrounding country did not appear very inviting. It looked forsaken
and, under the hot sun, almost desolate.
David drew a deep breath and kept on his way. Perhaps the new life he
had chosen was not going to be so interesting as he had imagined; but he
would keep on just the same. This was no time for regrets. He must
stick by his determination to see the thing through.
As he approached the largest house a lone dog darted out from some place
of concealment, growling and bristling; he called to it in a friendly
manner, but it bared its teeth and slunk away. A man, obviously a
native, came to the doorway of the nearest hut and stared at the
stranger in open astonishment. David started toward him; the man gave
him a malicious look and faded from view in the darkened interior of the
hut.
“Not a very inviting atmosphere around the place,” thought David. “But
I’ll walk right into the big house as if I owned it and see what
happens.”
On the threshold he stopped, however, and knocked. There was no response
from within, but, hearing the sound of voices in back of him, he turned
quickly to see who was responsible for it. A small group of natives
stood in the doorway of each hovel, or in front of it, eyeing him in a
curious manner.
“Enter!” one of them called to him. “The _patron_ is inside.”
David heeded this advice and walked in. He found himself in a long, low
room with a hard-packed earth floor. A number of benches lined the walls
and at one end were a wooden table and a chair. A man of burly
appearance sat on the chair; his back was turned toward the doorway so
that David could not see his face, but the neck was dark brown--David
did not know whether the color was that of a native or caused by the hot
sun. His clothes--a tan silk shirt and khaki-colored riding breeches,
with tall boots and huge spurs--were neat and not unattractive.
The youth saw that much during the minute he waited respectfully just
inside the room. Then, as the man paid no attention to him, he took a
few steps forward.
“Didn’t I tell you to keep out of here?” The man’s voice sounded like a
roar, but still he did not look up from the papers before him. “Wait
just a minute--then I’ll kick you out, so you will remember it the next
time.”
The man stood up and turned quickly.
“Well, for the--” he exploded and stopped short in apparent surprise.
His face was tanned also and smooth, and his eyes were blue. But for the
fierce scowl he wore he would have been a most amiable-looking sort of a
person.
“Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you get here? What do you
want?”
The questions were hurled in such rapid succession that David was
bewildered.
“I am Jones,” he said, after an instant’s hesitation, and he tried to
smile.
“Jones? Jones who?”
“David Jones. You are expecting me.”
“Boy, you must be crazy. I am not expecting anybody”--with a sneer--“and
furthermore, if I find out who brought you here I’ll break his neck.”
“You don’t understand--” David began, but the other interrupted him.
“Don’t you tell me I don’t know my own business,” he snapped.
“Pardon me. I did not intend to be rude. But I understood that my father
and you were old friends and that he had made arrangements for my coming
here. He sent several cables----”
“Oh, that’s it, is it? Just because he happened to know me he thinks he
can send his lazy, shiftless son to me to look after. What does he think
this is, a kindergarten? What I want is men, real men--not babies. What
do you know, what can you do? Nothing.”
David’s first feeling of consternation was giving way; also, he felt
decidedly less important than he had when telling of his plans just
before sailing, and on the steamer. What did he know after all? What had
he ever accomplished? Now that he was actually face to face with the
rugged type of man he had held up as his ideal, he felt very small
indeed.
“You are right,” he said meekly. “I don’t amount to much. I knew it, and
that is why I wanted to get away to a place where I had to depend on
myself and would have the chance to make good under trying conditions.”
“You picked out the poorest place in the world. Don’t lie to me; you
thought you could come here as Mr. David Jones, son of the big New York
business man, and that I would let you hang around as an ornament, wear
fancy cow-boy clothes, so you could send pictures to your friends at
home to admire; and that I would pay you a big salary for the honor of
having you here. Well, you guessed wrong.”
“I didn’t think of any of those things. I don’t want a cent until I
honestly earn it. All I expect is a chance to do the things I have
always wanted to do. My father did not send me away to get rid of me; I
had a hard time to get him to let me come here.”
The ranchman seemed to relent a little and, encouraged, David told him
all, including his difficulties at Manaos and how he had finally
succeeded in reaching the ranch on the trader’s boat.
“You did have tough luck all around,” Rice commented, “but if I let you
stay, it would only grow worse. Everything here has to be done by men
who know their work; we haven’t time to be teachers. So you can rest up
a bit; then I’ll send you back down the river. And that settles it.”
A loud knock sounded on the door-frame.
“Come in,” Rice called, and into the room stepped a tall, lean man,
dressed in a blue cotton shirt and fringed, leather breeches. He had a
cruel, swarthy face and small, restless eyes.
“Now what?” his employer asked.
“The launch is back from the Iguari; there has been more trouble with
the Indians.” He cast a meaning look at David.
“I’ll go outside,” David quickly said.
“No!” Rice bellowed. “You will stay right here until I tell you to go.”
David stopped and quickly turned to face the two.
CHAPTER IX
THE BEAST
“Now, what’s the trouble?” Rice demanded in an angry voice.
“It’s the Indians, mostly,” the foreman replied, shifting his feet
uneasily. “They fight us every step of the way, when we get a few miles
from the camp.”
“Why don’t you fight back--kill them all. That’s the only way to handle
the savages.”
“We do, but there are so many of them that there are always others to
take the places of the ones we kill. They seem to spring up like weeds,
right out of the ground.”
“Well? Go on! What else?”
“The snakes are worse than ever this year.”
“So you are afraid of snakes, too!” Rice said with a sneer. “You are a
fine person to be entrusted with the management of the rubber camp. If
you can’t do better than that, I’ll kick you out and put one of the
half-breeds in your place. At least, they are not cowards.”
“I’m not afraid of the snakes myself, but when one or more of the men
are bitten and die each day, it is not long before they all get scared
and want to quit. And besides, every one we lose leaves one man less to
collect rubber.”
“Is it really as bad as that?” Apparently Rice had underestimated the
seriousness of the situation.
“Oh, worse. It was bad enough in ordinary times, but this year the
drought is driving all the snakes to the river. They like the huts of
the men to use as hiding places, and are always dropping down out of the
thatched roofs or crawling over the floor at night; they even get into
the hammocks. I have never seen anything like it. Mariano found a
twenty-foot anaconda in his hammock the night before we left; that’s why
no one has seen Mariano since--he left camp in such a hurry he did not
even take his clothes.”
“Snakes or no snakes, the rubber crop must be gathered.” Rice seemed to
have made up his mind and spoke with an air of finality. “Soon the rains
will be here and then the season will be over. You must get more men and
try it again; we must have the rubber even if you lose every single man
in the end.”
“We can fight against the Indians and the snakes,” the foreman ventured,
timidly, “but there is one thing we can’t overcome and that is the
fever. There never was so much of it as this year--on account of the
drought, they say. Most of the men who escaped the other two plagues are
too sick to work.”
“Don’t tell me any more!” Rice thundered. “I’ve got troubles of my own.
It’s up to you to harvest that rubber, so go do it. You are the foreman.
Do anything you want to. Take every soul on the place; it don’t matter
if none gets back alive, just so you bring back the rubber. Now, get out
and do something.”
The foreman did not wait to hear more. He quickly made for the door and
disappeared. David was alone again with the viper.
He was speechless with amazement at the things he had just heard. Had he
been given his choice now, it is but natural that the first impulse
would have been to start for home as soon as possible. But he was not
asked to make known his desires.
“I’ve changed my mind about you,” Rice bellowed. “You will stay. You’ll
make one more hand to get that rubber crop in before the rains
start--even if you’re nothing but a boy. Can you swim?”
“Yes,” David answered meekly.
“Can you ride a horse?”
“Yes.”
“Can you throw a rope?”
“No. I never tried, but I can learn.”
“You are a fine one to come to a ranch--expecting to run it. I ought to
chase you out, and I would if I didn’t need you so badly. The rubber
camp will soon bring out the kind of stuff you’re made of. But just
remember this; we won’t tolerate any smart ideas or new notions. You
don’t know anything and you’ll do exactly as you are told. You are not
Mr. Jones’ son so long as you stay around here. Your official name is
Nobody, and that’s what I’ll call you. You are right down on the bottom
and you’ll stick there, too, if I am any judge of character. Now go, and
tell Carlos where you hid your pack, so he can send for it. He’ll fix
you up with what you need, and remember, he’s your boss. Do whatever he
says and if he thinks you worth the trouble, he’ll take you up-river.
Get out just as fast as you can and don’t bother me again.”
David was too bewildered to resent anything that had been said to him.
It had all come like a thunderbolt, suddenly, unexpected and terrible.
He merely stammered “Yes, Sir,” and hastily departed. Outside the door
he drew a deep breath of relief. What a frightful character Rice was! He
had not the slightest regard for life. No wonder they called him the
viper, but David could not think of any creature that was so repulsive
to him as this man, unless possibly it was a hyena.
How could his father have sent him to such a place? Then the truth
occurred to him. He had not been sent. He had insisted on having his
way. If he had known the truth; if only he had listened to the advice of
others who knew the world better than he, and----. But, no! He dared not
think such thoughts. He had gone this far and there must be no quitting.
He would see the thing through. Somehow, some way, matters would
straighten themselves out and if they didn’t he would force them to.
Seeing the foreman near one of the larger huts, David went toward him
unaware that the eyes of the beast were following his every movement.
The look of cruelty had gone from the eyes and a smile was on his
face--a smile partly of amusement and partly of pity, as he looked at
the forlorn figure approaching the burly Don Carlos.
“Hm!” he chuckled. “He’s showing the right stuff, so far. Getting here
the way he did wasn’t easy. I didn’t think he could do it. I can’t help
but admire him and if he don’t make good, I’ll be disappointed.”
“Mr. Rice sent me to you,” David addressed the foreman. “I guess I am to
go with your outfit.”
“What, you?” sarcastically. “You wouldn’t be good for anything except to
cook for the _mozos_ or some such work.”
“All right. You are the boss.”
Evidently the foreman was not prepared for such a reply and for a moment
he was at a loss as to what to say.
“Very well,” he said finally. “If that is the way you feel about it, I
guess we can use you. But I warn you in advance that you’ll have a hard
time of it. You’ll be the only white man; the others are Indians and
Mozos. They have to work hard and put up with anything, and so will
you.”
“I am not asking any favors. I’ll do the best I can.”
“Come along then. I’ll show you where you’ll live while we are here.
Where is your pack?” the foreman asked.
David told him where he had hidden it.
“I’ll send for it. There’s a short cut you don’t know so it’ll be easier
for one of the men to get it.”
They entered one of the shacks, the interior of which was larger than
the outside indicated. Stout poles set into the ground and covered with
a veneer of grass formed the walls; the roof was made of palm leaves.
The floor was hard-packed earth. A number of hammocks had been swung
between the poles and small, wooden chests and bags of various kinds
lined the walls. Light was admitted through one window opening and the
doorway. The place was gloomy and stuffy and David recoiled at sight of
his quarters, but said nothing.
“Put up your hammock in the best place you can find,” the foreman said.
“If you have none draw one from the supply house. You’ll have to sign a
receipt for it, and for anything else you get and it will be charged to
your account. That’s the way things are issued here.”
By nightfall the newcomer had been installed in his new quarters. His
pack had arrived and he had drawn a number of things he needed from the
supply house. There had also been the first meal at the ranch mess
shack--chunks of beef roasted on sticks before a wood fire, boiled beans
with farinha and coffee. It was the first food David had had since early
morning, and it seemed wonderful to him.
After supper the men gathered in their huts and played guitars, sang
songs and smoked. They did not enter their hammocks until a late hour
and even then they conversed in loud voices for some hours longer.
It was uncomfortably warm under the mosquito netting, but the humming of
the insects just outside the cloth dissuaded David from removing it.
Better suffer the heat than permit the mosquitoes to feast on him and
perhaps inoculate him with the germs of the dread malarial fever of
which he had heard and read so much.
The night came to an end somehow and again David was forcibly reminded
of his surroundings by the babble of voices around him for an hour
before their owners slid from their hammocks.
That day was a busy one. He spent the first part of it getting
acquainted as best he could with the men about him who would be his
constant companions. They were a ragged, unkempt crowd of all shades
from yellow, through brown, to black and at first they regarded him with
suspicion. But after he had assured them that he was to be one of them
and later distributed a generous supply of tobacco, they regarded him in
a more favorable light and one or two called him _camarada_ which word
they used in addressing one another.
However, they seemed unable to comprehend why a white man should be
relegated to their lowly, unhappy station. That situation was new to
them and time alone would accustom them to it.
One of the group, Miguel by name, however, did not hesitate to show open
resentment toward what he considered an intrusion by a stranger who was
not of their kind. He was of heavier build than the others, apparently
with Indian blood in his veins and occupied the place of leader of the
party. When they sang he announced the songs; he led the conversation
and talked in the loudest voice; and when they worked, he selected the
easiest tasks for himself.
In David he saw a possible rival; but he had met similar situations
before and he knew of various ways of handling them.
David, after asking permission of the foreman, drew more things from the
keeper of supplies. Among them was a rope, for he must become
proficient in its use in roping cattle upon his return from the rubber
camp. His object was, of course, to learn thoroughly the ranching
business; all other things were but a means toward that end.
Asking questions judiciously, David learned many things. The men told
him that there were cattle on the place--many of them, but at the
present time they were far away roaming the grasslands and attended only
by a few rangers who would head the roving bands back to the ranch with
the coming of the rainy season when grass would be abundant in the
country nearby. And that he had reached the place by an old, seldom used
trail; the new one was only a score of yards long. The launches came up
a small creek that flowed almost past the doors of the ranch houses.
They all agreed that the rubber camp was an extremely unattractive place
and about Rice, owner of the place, they refused to talk.
Preparations for the departure were being made in a leisurely manner.
True, there was need of haste, for the dry season would not last
forever. Doing things slowly was, however, typical of the country. The
men simply could not be hurried beyond a given point. Probably the
climate was to blame for the fact that the people did not possess the
energy and initiative of those of a more northern latitude.
There were bales of _charque_ or dried, salt beef that looked like
bundles of leather scraps; bags of beans, coffee and brown sugar; and
many bags of farinha. In the course of his inspection of the
settlement, David had the opportunity to see how the latter was made.
One whole hut was given over to the manufacture of the coarse meal, and
women exclusively were engaged in the work. Yucas, which were tubers
like very large potatoes, were being brought from the plantation some
distance away. The women carried the heavy burdens on their heads,
balancing them without using their hands to steady them. Others took
them, pared and grated them; for the latter process they had a board on
which small, sharp stones had been glued. The juice was then extracted
by filling long, tubular baskets with the mash and suspending them from
the ceiling; a heavy stone was tied to the bottom of the filled baskets.
The weight pulled the baskets downward, contracting them and thus
expressing the juice from the pulp. This liquid was caught in wooden
containers and allowed to ferment after which it was used as a beverage.
After the greater part of the moisture had been removed the contents of
the baskets were emptied into a vat; they were taken from this as needed
and placed into shallow pans over low fires. The women stirred the
steaming masses constantly with long-handled paddles until they had
thoroughly dried, when the particles separated into a coarse meal. That
was the finished product--called farinha.
The next day they began loading the launch. David joined the line of
mozos and carried his share of the bales and bags. Most of them were
very heavy, so it was hard work and the perspiration ran in streams
down his bare back. But he stuck to the task without complaint or
comment.
On his return from one of the trips to the launch David found Rice
standing near the passing file of men, surveying them with an appraising
eye.
“Good morning,” he said, halting.
“What?” The voice that replied was filled with sudden anger. “Whining
already? Want to go home? I expected it!”
“Why,” David started in surprise. “I only said good morning.”
“Don’t good morning me. And don’t say anything else, either. You are not
to talk to me unless I speak first--no peon is allowed to.”
“Very well.”
“The foreman is your boss; you are nobody--with a little n. When I have
anything to say to you I’ll let you know pretty quick; and you keep your
mouth shut. Now move on.”
David moved on without further urging. He felt as if somebody had given
him a sound thrashing, but after all, what could he expect from the
beast? He had agreed to start at the bottom although he had not known
how low that bottom might be but he expected no favors--wanted none. He
would show them that he could stand on his own feet without their help
and even in spite of anything they might do; time alone would tell the
story.
When night came he was so tired that he sought his hammock right after
supper. Neither the loud voices of the mozos nor the uncomfortable
position he was forced to assume on account of the short stretch of the
ropes kept him awake. For the first time in several nights he slept
soundly, and it seemed but a moment when someone called them all to
tumble out in a hurry to prepare for the journey up the river.
CHAPTER X
THE ASCENT OF THE UPPER AMAZON
Day was just breaking when the launch nosed her way out into the little
stream. Overhead, the leaf-covered branches of the trees that lined the
water-course met to form a delicate tracery of black against the graying
sky.
Birds raised their voices, clear and cheery in the checkered canopy and
others responded in drowsy, listless whispers from the dark walls on
either side.
Where the creek was narrowest or where the foliage was so dense as
completely to obscure the sky, the water seemed to melt away into deep
pools of blackness; but the launch glided on and on without plunging
abruptly into some unseen abyss, although the muffled throb of the
engine always seemed fainter in the heavier gloom as if in deference to
the all-pervading spirit of darkness.
Once there was a sudden crashing in the heavy undergrowth followed by
the splash of a heavy body in the water; then silence for a short
interval. Now the sequence was reversed. There was first a splashing in
the water and then the crashing of brush--on the opposite side of the
stream. A tapir, alarmed by the boat, had sought refuge in the water
only to discover that the cause of its terror was directly in its path.
Therefore it had dived and swum swiftly beneath the surface and then,
emerging, lost no time in regaining the land.
When the light grew somewhat stronger gaunt forms appeared between the
water and the fretwork overhead. They always sprang out of the deepest
shadows and melted into the distance as silent as spectres and as devoid
of clews as to their identity. But finally, when one of them emitted a
hoarse croak of fright as the launch rounded a bend and brushed the
vegetation in which the creature had been concealed, David knew that it
was a heron.
The occasional chorus of squawks that came from high above belonged to
flocks of macaws on their way to some fruiting tree for an early
breakfast.
By the time the sun rose the launch had entered the main river where the
craft hugged the shore in order to avoid the strong current further out.
There now being less danger of collisions they moved at a faster rate of
speed. David could not but feel how different this mode of travel was
from the slow, painful progress made by the batalao when he came up this
same river to the ranch.
The Solimoes was broad, majestic and awe-inspiring. Frequently they were
caught in swift eddies near the bank, where the launch had to fight for
each inch of the way; and occasionally they had to make detours far out
into the river to avoid treacherous sand bars covered with only a few
inches of water. The latter were in great contrast to other parts of
the river where the depth was immense.
One such place was pointed out by the men. The spot was marked by a keg
buoy; one of the steamers plying on the Upper Amazon had gone down there
shortly before with nearly all hands. The boat had been located on the
bottom, two hundred and ninety feet down. Divers could not descend to
that great depth and even if they could they would not on account of the
aquatic monsters that lurked far beneath the surface.
At Palomas, a small station maintained from the ranch, they stopped to
replenish their supply of gasoline. Carrying the cases to the launch and
storing them took several hours and as it was late in the afternoon when
the work was finished it was decided to remain at anchor until the next
morning.
David worked with the others, carrying the heavy tins on his shoulder
until it seemed the sharp corners had cut furrows in the flesh; and,
while some of the others did a good deal of complaining, he said
nothing.
After the task had been completed he stripped for a swim--the first in
days. One of the men observed his action and hastened to caution him
against entering the river on account of the great numbers of crocodiles
and cannibal fishes that congregated at this particular spot and would
make short work of anyone foolhardy enough to enter the water. However,
there was a place farther up where one could swim in safety.
Several others now came to join them and together they went to a little
bay where a stockade of stout poles had been driven into the bottom
forming an enclosure that barred the entrance of the savage creatures
inhabiting the river.
So far, the peons, while not discourteous, had persisted in their
aloofness toward David, and he could not but feel that as yet they had
not accepted him as one of their number. He wanted to overcome that
feeling on their part; he was compelled to share their labors and it was
but natural that he wanted to share their confidences also. The tobacco
he had given them in the hut at the ranch, and on several occasions
after that, had helped break down the barrier between them. But for the
greater part, they had accepted it merely as a present from someone
financially able and by nature generous enough to give it. Anyone in
like circumstances could do that. It would require some feat of physical
prowess and courage to establish the stranger deeply in their
estimation. Not until he had demonstrated such traits to their entire
satisfaction would the gulf between them be closed.
After ascertaining the depth of the water, David began to dive off the
high bank, from numerous positions, and before he realized it, the men
had stopped swimming and had formed a semi-circle to watch. Then came
exclamations of surprise and approbation as he plunged, again and again,
into the water.
“Bravo,” they shouted as he reappeared after each splash.
“It’s nothing,” David answered with a happy smile. “Come along and I’ll
show you how to do it.”
But the men did not follow him; the bank was too high, they said.
Therefore, Jones showed them various strokes in swimming and in this
they all joined, vieing with one another in attempts to master the
lesson and thereby win the _muito bom_ of approval from the master.
When they returned to the launch the men who had been to swim told the
others what had occurred and were loud in their praise of their new
companion.
Everyone listened interestedly except Miguel, their self-appointed
leader.
“Who couldn’t swim inside the stockade?” he asked derisively.
“It wasn’t that. We all swam, but it was the ways he did it. And you
should have seen him dive from the top of the bank, and you know how
high that is.”
“All it takes to do that is practice,” Miguel said, with an air of
pouring out wisdom to the ignorant. “Some day we will see if this Nobody
is so wonderful in the water. I will go into the river--” he paused so
that they might appreciate the full weight of his words, “into the
river, I said, where there is no stockade, or into a lagoon full of
piranhas and crocodiles. See if he will follow me.”
At first David said nothing. But the men were looking at him expectantly
and a few were showing disappointment in their faces.
“All right,” he answered slowly. “Let me know when you are ready. I am
not trying to show off but I can certainly do anything you can.”
The men now looked at Miguel. He moved uneasily. His bluff had been
called, much to his dismay. But he held his ground.
“I will let you know” he said, “and everybody else, too, so they can see
just how brave you are and what a good swimmer you are. You said you
would follow me; I have witnesses.”
“Yes. I said that. I expect you to make good--I have witnesses, too.”
Just then the cook called the men for the evening meal, so taking their
bowls and spoons they went to the launch for their dole of rice and
beef.
In the days that followed, David gave demonstrations and lessons in
swimming and diving so often as the opportunity presented itself; and,
under his instruction a number of the party soon became adepts at
performing the feats they had admired so greatly. In return, they showed
him how to handle the lasso and he lost no chance to practice with it,
using stumps and snags for targets and sometimes one of the men who
would run past, inviting the entangling coils of the rope.
Miguel made no further mention of his challenge and David was careful
not to remind him of it. It was not until several weeks later that the
matter again came up, with consequences as unexpected as they were
startling.
For the present David was fully occupied with the venture in hand. There
were a hundred things he wanted to learn and the questions he asked were
many. The men, however, were reluctant to talk on most subjects and he
finally came to the conclusion that their reticence was the result
either of ignorance or of orders from higher up.
They were glad enough to help him with his study of their language--so
far as they themselves knew it; to tell him about the river or the
animals; and of the methods employed in collecting and preparing the
rubber latex. But when he asked about Rice, the ranch, or kindred things
they remained ominously silent.
After a while David did not mention these subjects again. It was too
evident that the men did not want to discuss them.
A week later they entered a river that joined the Solimoes from the
west. It was a small stream compared with the one into which it
emptied--not over a few hundred yards in width. At least, the channel
they had entered was narrow and the water was clear and swift so that
the launch made slow progress. When David looked down at the water
speeding past them it seemed that they must be moving along at a furious
rate; when he looked at the trees on the bank he knew that they were
barely making any headway. It took several hours for them to battle
their way up the turbulent stretch of rapids.
“That is an island,” said one of the men, pointing to the land on their
right. “This channel is bad enough--especially when the water is low.
But you should see the branch on the other side of the island. There is
a drop there several meters high and no boat can pass up or down it.”
David was not greatly impressed by these words. He did not recall them
even later when he found himself suddenly at the brink of that very
drop.
The country rapidly became wilder in appearance. Perhaps it only seemed
so because the stream was so narrow that they had a continuous close
view of both banks and the heavy growth that clothed them.
The launch seemed strangely out of place in the dreary, primeval waste
of jungle and hurrying water. Men had come and gone before on the river;
and Indians and beasts lived in the green fortresses on either side. But
there was no sign of them, no trace of their presence or existence. Only
once was there evidence that others besides themselves were stirring on
the now silent, undemonstrative river.
They had just rounded a sharp bend which had obstructed their view
up-stream. Ahead of them and not more than two hundred yards distant was
another abrupt bend. The stern of a dugout canoe was just disappearing
around it. They could not see the occupants of the craft, but the
widening circles of ripples on the water showed that a number of paddles
had been dipped deep to propel the canoe at great speed.
They reached the spot soon after. Ahead of them was a clear stretch of
water fully a mile long. It was not possible that the Indians could have
covered that distance while the launch, travelling much faster, was
traversing the very short distance that had separated them. But the
dugout was not in sight. There was not a trace of it--not even a ripple
on the water to tell where it had gone. It had vanished completely.
The river glided on as smoothly and as silently as before with the
secret of the mysterious craft safely locked in its yellow flood.
“The guns,” the captain said quietly as they steered toward the middle
of the stream.
The men who had weapons loaded them and held them ready for instant
action. They scanned the banks as they sped along, but saw no signs of
the canoe. There were no creeks or inlets in which it could have been
hidden.
“Where did it get to?” David asked in astonishment.
“Who knows?” one of the men answered. “That is one of the mysterious
things the Indians do that cannot be explained. One minute you see them,
the next they are gone. And the minute you forget all about them a
shower of arrows comes rattling around your head.”
“I can’t understand it. I should think it would get on your nerves,”
David commented with a shudder.
“It does. Who wouldn’t be upset when he knows there are silent, tricky
shadows all around him that appear and fade away at will. You’ll
understand it better when you have been in the country longer.”
“I don’t feel comfortable. It doesn’t seem natural.”
“I tell you these Indians are _diablos_. They are not human. That’s why
we are no match for them. You’ll see!”
The river grew somewhat narrower as they advanced up-stream. Also the
water was still falling, the dry season not having reached its height.
In a few weeks it would be at its lowest stage; then it would remain
stationary for some time, until the coming of the rains when it always
rose rapidly until the stream was converted into a roaring flood.
The receding water left the ledges of rock that cropped out of the river
bank exposed above the surface--some of them many feet up, others
sloping gently into the stream. All of them were covered with mud which
had not dried on the more recently exposed ones.
They came suddenly upon such a table-like expanse glistening in the
bright sunlight. On it were dark masses that moved. The distance
separating them was at first too great for David to tell just what the
objects were, but the men saw them before long and raised a shout of
joy.
“Meat, meat!” they said. “Now we will have fresh meat to eat.”
“What are they, turtles?” David asked, then answered his own question.
“They can’t be. Look at the bright colors.”
“They are birds,” someone said. “All kinds of parrots.”
“Parrots? What are they doing in the mud?”
“Eating it, of course.”
“And you expect me to believe that? There are a good many things I don’t
know about your country, but I do know that parrots don’t eat mud.”
“It’s the truth”; it was Miguel who strove to show his superior
knowledge. “They come each year when the water is low and gorge
themselves on the fresh mud. There is salt or something of that kind in
it and they come to get that.”
They were now near enough to the ledge so that a good view of the birds
could be had. There were large groups of them that must have totaled
thousands of individuals. Many different species were abundantly
represented. There were red and blue macaws of great size; large green
parrots with yellow heads; parrokeets no larger than an English sparrow;
and many of intermediate dimensions. Almost every hue of the rainbow
could be seen in the assortment. But standing out from the motley array
was a group of the magnificent hyacinthine macaws.
Much to the surprise of David the birds were not alarmed upon the
approach of the launch. Ordinarily so wary, they paid not the slightest
attention to the oncoming, noisy craft, but continued delving deeply
into the mire with their hooked beaks.
“The mud makes them stupid,” they explained when he asked the reason for
the seeming indifference, “or else they get drunk on it. Anyway, they
can’t fly away. That’s why we are going to have all the fresh meat we
can eat for a few days.”
When the launch reached the ledge the men leaped ashore with poles in
their hands and clambered into the midst of the groups of birds. A few
took wing, circled once or twice and then came back to their old places;
a number of others ran about aimlessly, obviously bewildered, but unable
to seek safety in flight. The vast majority, however, did not notice the
men, who began clubbing them with their poles.
David revolted at the sight, but was powerless to prevent the slaughter,
in which, however, he took no part.
“I’m going to have one for a pet, though,” he thought, “one of the big
blue ones.”
He threw his coat over a hyacinthine macaw and carried it back to the
launch where he deposited it on the deck. When he removed the covering
the bird struggled to its feet and stood blinking at him in a dazed
manner.
How wonderful it was! It measured nearly four feet from the tip of its
hooked beak to the end of its tail, and was of a uniform deep blue
color. The bill was of enormous proportions, fully three inches deep,
the upper mandible ending in a sharp, hooked point, the lower fitting
into it like a keen-edged scoop. He had not imagined that such a
creature existed.
Soon the men came back laden with their victims. They made several trips
back and forth to gather up all the birds they had killed, but at last
the task was completed and a high heap lay on the deck. Fortunately,
large numbers of survivors still remained on the ledge, eating as
unconcernedly as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
When the men saw what David had done they roared with laughter.
“Wait until it wakes up,” one said. “It will make things hot for you.
You’ll never manage it.”
“I’m going to tie it,” David explained. “Here is a string that I bet
will hold it.”
At this they laughed louder than before.
“Better use this wire,” one suggested, handing him one of the kind used
in binding the bales of dried beef, and he accepted it, fastening one
end to one of the bird’s legs and the other to the rail.
“Now, I guess you’ll stay a while,” David commented. “I’m going to tame
you and take you back home with me.”
The remainder of the day was spent plucking and dressing the parrots and
that night they ate quantities of them that had been boiled first and
then roasted. The flesh was of excellent flavor, though many of the
birds were tough in the extreme. However, they were a most welcome
change from the everlasting dried beef and there were enough left for
several days to come.
CHAPTER XI
IN THE RUBBER FOREST
The rubber camp was a dismal place. The clusters of huts comprising the
settlement stood in the deep shade cast by gigantic trees that grew
close together; most of them were little more than shelters--peaked
roofs on poles, and were of the flimsiest possible construction. The
palm-leaf thatch was held in place by poles laid across it short
distances apart, instead of being tied with strips of bark or creepers.
However, the makeshift construction was entirely practicable as the
hovels had to be replaced each year and they served their purpose well
for one short season.
The paths that had been worn between the huts were muddy and a number of
lean pigs wallowed in them. The latter were the camp scavengers and were
also relied upon to destroy scorpions, tarantulas and other obnoxious
creatures that ventured near the human habitations.
The smokehouses in which the rubber later was prepared, after it had
been brought in from the forest, stood apart from the huts occupied as
living quarters by the men. These had walls that enclosed them, but
light filtered into the interior through the thin layer of leaves that
extended from the roof to the ground. The earth floors were littered
with an array of large tin cones, pails, bowls of various sizes, wooden
paddles and heaps of the palm nuts burned to produce the acrid smoke
needed to congeal the rubber milk. There were also numerous little
fireplaces built of stones. David was to learn the use of all these
utensils very soon.
Several long dug-out canoes were tied up at the bank. They were a
precautionary measure. If the water in the river should rise suddenly,
as it sometimes did, the men could take to the boats as the whole region
would soon be inundated.
They unloaded the launch and carried the supplies to the storehouse.
Their personal effects were taken to those huts having sufficient space
for their hammocks. David returned to the boat just in time to see a
large bird winging its way up the river.
“There goes your pet,” one of the men greeted him. “I told you so.”
The wire had been bitten in two as if it had been a thread.
“Well, if it’s like that, I’m glad it’s gone,” David said, but he was in
reality somewhat sorry to lose his prize.
“You can’t keep them,” the man continued. “They bite or gnaw their way
out of anything and if you try to be friendly they bite your fingers
off.”
The bird had swerved in its flight and with raucous screams disappeared
over the tree-tops.
Nothing was seen of the men engaged in the rubber harvest, for they were
in the forest collecting the previous night’s flow of sap. Only two
Brazilians, the cook and his helper, were on duty at the camp, and they
kept up a continuous bombardment of questions of the newcomers, most of
which concerned David, but he did not try to understand what was being
said.
The Indians and Brazilians arrived from the forest shortly before noon
and looked at the white man in astonishment. The Indians had their
abodes apart from the others and did not mingle with the Brazilians;
most of them had their entire families with them and all helped with the
work in hand.
David was awakened early the following morning. Daylight had not yet
penetrated into the jungle, but by the time coffee had been prepared,
each man going to the cook shack with his cup for his share, the gray
light was filtering through the branches overhead. The Indians remained
near their hovels and prepared their own food over small fires.
“Come with me!” The speaker was one of the men who had come on the
launch, and his words were directed at David.
“Here is your outfit. I will start you on a route and tell you all you
have to know,” he continued. “Tomorrow and every day after that you’ll
be alone like the rest of us.”
David took the small ax which, however, had a handle five feet long;
that was the “outfit” to which the man had referred. Silently, he
followed his guide into the forest.
“Now, listen,” the latter said, after they had gone a short distance.
“The trees that produce the rubber milk are called _Hevea
braziliensis_; everybody knows that name, even the most ignorant
Indians, so you ought to remember it, too. The trees grow all over the
forest, but the trouble is that there are never very many of them close
together. You will find one here and one there and by the time you have
discovered a few hundred you will be many kilometers from where you
started. Could you tell one if you saw it?”
“Yes, I know a rubber tree. It has long, thick leaves. Some of them grow
higher than I am,” David replied, proud of his knowledge.
“I never saw one like that. This is one of the kind I mean,” and the man
stopped. Before him was a tree fully seventy-five feet high and eighteen
inches through at the base. At first it looked to David exactly like all
the other trees around them. But a second glance showed a number of
V-shaped welts distributed evenly around the lower part of the trunk.
“Is that one?” he asked. “It is different from my kind, but I see. It
will be easy to find the trees now that you have pointed one out to me.
I could tell them from a distance on account of the way the bark grows.”
The man burst into a laugh.
“The bark don’t grow that way naturally,” he said. “This tree has been
bled some time ago and those marks are the scars that have healed over.”
He then explained the characteristics by which the hevea trees could be
readily identified. The bark, for instance, was fairly smooth, and the
long leaves grew in little clusters of three.
They walked on rapidly winding to right and to left so as to find all
the trees growing in a wide belt of country, but kept a straight course
toward the east.
After a while the guide stopped suddenly.
“Do you know where we are?” he asked.
“Yes, I think so,” David replied.
“Where is camp?”
“That way,” and David pointed north.
“You’re wrong, but it’s my fault. I should have told you before; the
best way to mark your trail in the jungle is to bend down twigs as you
go along. The under sides of the leaves are much lighter than the upper
sides, so you can see them a long way off. Watch!”
He snapped a small branch and the two walked on. Looking back, David
could easily distinguish the light, silvery under surface of the leaves
on the branch that had been bent.
After that he snapped twigs frequently, leaving a well-defined trail in
back of them.
They had spent nearly three hours in the forest and had penetrated a
distance of fully four miles.
“This will be enough trees to start with,” the Brazilian said, stopping.
“I have spotted two hundred and fifty of them and they will keep you
busy until you learn more about the work. After a while you can go as
much further as you like. A good man works five or six hundred trees.
But you will have your hands full with these now.”
“What do I have to do?” David asked. “How do you milk a rubber tree?”
“They are not milked,” the man replied with a superior air. “They are
bled. We will take this one for an example. Watch what I do. Look
closely and ask me any questions you want to.”
He took the long-handled ax and standing on the tips of his toes made a
number of quick cuts in the bark as high up as he could reach. Two
incisions were always made together to form a V, and the blade was not
driven straight into the bark but at an angle so that the cut had
slanting edges.
After encircling the tree-trunk with these marks--about ten inches
apart, the ring of them being over ten feet above the ground, the man
stopped to explain their purpose. They were made merely to stimulate the
flow of sap or latex. Each cut was a wound to the tree; it would rush a
stream of sap to the spot to cleanse it, keep out insects and dust and
to seal it until it could grow together again. That was nature’s way of
protecting the tree when it was injured and while healing was in
progress.
If the tree were wounded in too many places at the same time it would be
unable to cope with the situation and would die of the shock. But if the
injuries were inflicted in gradually increasing numbers it would build
up a strong defense by storing a large quantity of sap, ready to be
rushed to any part of the trunk to clean new abrasions and protect them
so soon as they were inflicted.
Three or four days would be required to bring about this state of
affairs in most cases, although in some trees it would take a week.
That would be David’s first task--to make circles of incisions each
morning to stimulate the trees to action.
Next, he was told the rules that had to be observed in tapping the
trees. The cuts must be ten inches apart and each new ring must be ten
inches below the last one. Also, the position of each incision had to be
halfway between those above, so that two days’ work would look like this
V V V V
V V V V
Only one other thing remained to be told. No tree was to be disturbed
unless it had a circumference of six spans half a meter above the
ground.
When, on the fourth or fifth day, the milk began to flow in quantity
sufficient to be collected, a strip of tough palm midrib was tied around
the trunk near the base. One side was pushed down a few inches; when the
milk ran down the trunk it was stopped by the girdle and flowing along
it soon reached the lowest part where a large leaf folded into a cone
was suspended to receive it.
It all looked very simple and David was sure he would have no trouble in
following the instructions given him. On the return journey he snapped
twigs continually so that he could easily find his way over the same
route the next day.
He was back on the trail early, starting at the same time as the others,
who branched away in all directions. The long-handled ax was in his
hands and the revolver, which he now always carried, was in its holster
at his side. Most of the men had a firearm of some kind; others had bows
and arrows, in the use of which they were proficient, having learned the
art from the Indians.
There was no trouble in picking up the trail of the previous day, and
the bent twigs with the silvery under side of the leaves showing
plainly, made it easy to follow the route that had been selected for
him.
As he came to each rubber tree he stopped and made the circle of
V-shaped cuts so high up as he could reach with the ax. It was still
early when he finished and began the homeward walk. The forest was
strangely silent save for the call of an occasional bird in the
distance.
As he was covering his route for the second time he noticed that the
cuts he had made the day before were covered with beads and rivulets of
whitish gum. Some of it had trickled down a few inches on the trunk
before hardening. That was encouraging and he hastened to make the
second ring of incisions below the first.
This was continued daily for a period of five days and by that time the
sap was flowing so abundantly that the ground at the foot of the trees
was covered with it. The girdles and leaf-cups were now put in position
and it was with a feeling of eagerness that David started on his journey
the following morning, this time carrying a large tin pail in addition
to the ax.
Each folded leaf contained from one to two ounces of the milky sap. They
were emptied into the bucket and the leaves were replaced at the lowest
part of the belt. New cuts were made in the trees for the next day’s
supply.
When Jones reached the end of his line the pail was nearly full and he
had to walk carefully in order not to spill any of the precious fluid.
Also, it was very heavy. As he walked along slowly, an idea came to him.
Why had he begun to collect the milk at the near end of the trail? That
meant carrying the filled pail all the way back! By starting at the far
end the pail would not be full until he was nearly back in camp and so
the carry would be a short one.
After the midday meal, which was most uninviting as it consisted of the
eternal dried beef, rice and beans, all boiled together so that they
formed a thick, brown mass, he went to one of the smokehouses to prepare
his day’s catch.
This structure, like the others used for the purpose, was almost
entirely enclosed; that is, the palm leaves, of which the roof was
composed, hung down in a ragged fringe until they touched the ground.
The ends were closed with other leaves fastened to cross pieces of
bamboo. There was only one small opening that served as a doorway, but
light entered the interior through the numerous little holes between the
leaves.
The smoke was so dense that at first David could see nothing. His eyes
began to smart and tears rolled down his cheeks. The smoke threatened to
suffocate him and, coughing violently, he began to grope blindly for the
doorway.
“Stoop down, _caboclo_,” someone called to him and he obeyed
mechanically. The air was clear lower down; in fact, the smoke hovered
in a thick cloud near the top of the structure, its lower edge four feet
above the earth floor.
David had recognized the voice that had called to him. It was Miguel’s.
And the word _caboclo_ meant a sort of worthless fellow and was always
used derisively. But he was in no condition to resent the insult just
then, so pretended not to have noticed it.
When his eyes had cleared he could make out a number of men squatting
near their smudges, each engaged in smoking his day’s harvest of rubber
sap. There being several unused fireplaces he went to one of them and
set down his pail. Then he went to one of the men--one he had taught to
swim and dive, and asked questions, watching him proceed with his work
the while. The process was a very simple one, so he soon returned to his
place, started a fire between the stones and when the dry sticks were
blazing he placed upon them several of the large palm nuts used to
produce the smudge.
Soon the smoke was rolling upward in a broad, white column; then he
placed one of the tall, cone-shaped tins over it so that it now poured
out of the opening in the pointed end in a small though dense stream.
The milk was emptied into a wide, shallow pan. A pole five feet long and
having a circumference of six inches was suspended by one end from the
rafters with a strong cord. He took the loose end in one hand, swung the
pole over the pan, dipped up some of the milk with a gourd dipper and
poured it over the central part of the pole. A good deal of it adhered
to the wood but the greater part of it ran down again into the pan.
Then he quickly swung the pole so that the part covered with sap was
directly over the tin cone; the acrid smoke pouring out of it instantly
converted the milk into rubber by congealing and darkening it.
In a short time he became very proficient in the operation. The pole was
kept swinging back and forth constantly; when it was above the pan it
received a fresh coat of milk and when it swung over the smoke a new,
thin layer of rubber was formed.
It took several hours to prepare his morning’s catch. The novelty of the
work made it interesting, at first. After that it was nothing but a
monotonous, mechanical grind and David was glad when the last drops had
been scooped out of the pan and added to the slowly forming ball on the
pole. All the others had finished their work long before that time and
were lolling about camp.
David went to his quarters for his lasso. There were still several hours
before nightfall and he would use them in practice with the rope; it was
absolutely necessary that he become expert in its use before returning
to the ranch.
Again and again the coil was swung over his head and sent speeding at a
conveniently situated stump that served as a target. More often than not
the loop fell wide of the mark. He was so engrossed in his occupation
that he had not noticed the little group of men that had gathered to
watch his efforts.
“He will never learn anything. Just look at that! missed it four
meters.” David knew that the voice belonged to Miguel, without turning
to look at the speaker. “I told you he was a _caboclo_,” the latter
continued.
David pretended not to hear. He whipped up the noose with a snap and
prepared it for another throw.
“And he’s worse than that. If anybody called me a caboclo I’d fight.”
Miguel had been encouraged by David’s silence and was adding insult to
injury.
That was too much for David. He dropped the rope and in a few quick
strides reached the man who had so openly challenged him.
“Look here,” he said very quietly, “don’t you ever get the idea that I’m
afraid of you--or anyone else either. This is not the first time you
tried to make trouble; but it’s going to be the last time. Understand?”
The even tones deceived Miguel. The only kind of fighting he knew was
always preceded by loud, fiery arguments. The American was clearly
evading the issue.
“Well,” he said with a sneer, “what are you going to do about it?”
“This!” David’s right fist shot out like a bolt and sent the
troublemaker flat on his back.
CHAPTER XII
A BATTLE WITH A CROCODILE
A gasp escaped the circle of onlookers as Miguel struck the ground. And
the first feeling of surprise was followed by one of expectancy, of
curiosity to see what would happen next. According to the rules of the
game as they knew it David should have immediately pounced upon the
prostrate man and given him a good mauling, but he did nothing of the
sort. That puzzled them.
He stood over him, however, with clenched fists, ready for instant
action when Miguel regained his feet.
After a moment the man opened his eyes.
“Now take back what you said,” David demanded.
“I was only joking,” Miguel answered, rising to a sitting position and
holding one hand to his head.
“Well, I was not joking,” David replied. “You know that by this time. I
was in dead earnest. I’ve stood for a good many things to keep from
hurting anybody, but there’s a limit. Take back your words or you won’t
stay on your feet very long when you get up. I’ll knock you down every
time you try it. What you’ve had so far is only a sample.”
The man looked appealingly to the circle of his companions. But the look
in their faces gave him no encouragement to expect help in that
direction. First one, then another face was scrutinized. The onlookers,
if anything, were afraid the fight would stop too soon; they wanted to
see more of it.
“Hurry up!” David’s voice rang out clear and sharp. “Do what I told you
to unless you want to spend the whole afternoon down in the dirt.”
“I said I was only joking,” Miguel persisted. “I said I didn’t mean
anything.” He stopped short.
“All right. And I said I am not joking. Now continue. Say you’re sorry
and take it all back.”
After a short hesitation the man did as he was directed.
“Now get up,” David said. “I’m sorry, too, I had to hurt you and I hope
it won’t be necessary to do it again. It depends on you.”
Picking up his rope he continued his occupation as unconcernedly as if
nothing had happened.
Miguel got up and walked toward one of the huts. The others, however,
remained, watching David’s efforts and giving him a good deal of helpful
advice which he was glad to have.
Day after day the work of collecting the rubber sap continued. The
unvaried nature of the work was monotonous. Each morning David tramped
up the long trail to its end and then went slowly homeward emptying the
little leaf-cups into his pail and cutting new gashes into the trees as
he went. The flow was increasing steadily and was of excellent quality.
As a result of this the ball of rubber on the stick in the smokehouse
grew rapidly. Each day’s work added another layer to the rapidly
accumulating mass.
The men, so it was said, received the equivalent of ten cents a pound
for the rubber they collected. And as David was now adding not less than
twenty pounds a day to his lot, it was amounting up rapidly.
In covering his route one day he found that instead of the white liquid
he had expected to find, many of the cups were filled with little cakes
of a tough cheesy consistency and of a grayish color. He could not
account for the sudden change. Removing one of the cups he pulled away
the leaf in fragments, revealing the little cake in its entirety, and
puzzled over it for some time. There was nothing to do but to collect
the masses and replace the leaf-cups with new ones. Those containers
that held latex as it should be were emptied into the pail. David
removed his shirt and used it for a bag in which to carry the chunks of
congealed substance.
This took more time than usual and it was well past the noon hour when
he reached camp. The men were in the smokehouses, busy with their
occupation. It had occurred to David that the condition of his catch
might be the result of some change in the weather, but when he saw the
others with their pans of snowy liquid he knew that there must be some
other reason.
Dom Carlos, the foreman, happened to be in the hut when he entered. He
was in his usual ugly mood and glared at David as he emptied the
contents of his shirt on the floor.
“What have you got there?” he called in a loud voice.
“I don’t know what caused it,” David began, while some of the men
started to laugh, “but it was nearly all like this today. I thought
maybe it was the heat caused it.”
“Who do you think I am, to try to give me such an excuse?” Carlos
bellowed. “The heat! The heat! It must have affected you but not the
rubber. It’s your own laziness spoiled it. You’ve wasted a day of your
employer’s time and a lot of his property. Do you realize that?”
David did not like being called down before all the others and he could
hardly keep from expressing his feelings in a forcible manner. But upon
second thought he suppressed the impulse. Perhaps the man was trying to
pick a fight.
“What’s the reason for it?” he asked. “Why did the milk get hard like
that?”
“Dirt, of course. You’ve been using the same old cups every day when you
should make new ones at least every third day.”
“What do you want done with this? Isn’t it worth anything?” David asked.
“Throw it into the scrap heap. The boss is entitled to all the rubber on
his property, and if anyone wastes it, as you have done, he suffers a
loss. But I’ll see that he doesn’t lose anything in this case. I’ll
charge it against your work,” the foreman said in an angry manner.
That part did not trouble David greatly. He was not counting so much on
earning money as on winning the good will of everyone around him. So he
made no reply.
Having nothing to do that afternoon, after the small quantity of good
sap had been prepared, he spent the time with his lasso. It was
remarkable how quickly one could become fairly proficient through
constant, earnest practice. He could now swing the rope easily and hurl
it accurately. If he continued to show improvement at the present rate
he would be well able to hold his own when they returned to the ranch.
“I believe in making hay while the sun shines,” he thought, “then after
I’ve won my spurs in the bush it will be easier to get along at Las
Palmas.”
The next morning the contents of most of the cups were found to be in
the same condition as on the previous day. After examining a number of
the little, tough cakes David came to the conclusion that no matter what
caused the trouble, he was not responsible for it. The cups were clean,
for they were new ones. And the milk that trickled from the cuts was as
it should be; it was only after it reached the little containers that it
quickly coagulated. No! It was not his fault and not the fault of the
trees; they had not soured overnight. Someone had visited his route and
had tampered with his work.
First he would try to find out what had been done and the next step
would be to discover the guilty party.
He took one of the small cakes and examined it carefully. The exterior
was perfectly smooth. Then he cut it in half and looked at the texture
of the interior of the mass. It did not differ from the outside. Not
satisfied with this finding he divided one of the halves and when the
knife had gone into it a little ways it scraped against some hard
substance near the bottom. It was a large, black ant and he had cut it
in two.
That might be a clew as to what caused the difficulty. Acting on a
sudden impulse he smelled of the pieces in his hand. There was a strong
odor of acid, not unfamiliar to him.
“Formic acid, of course,” he said half aloud. “Ants are full of it. It’s
strong enough to curdle almost anything.”
The presence of the ant seemed to explain the condition of the latex;
but someone must have placed it there. It was possible that it had been
attracted by the fluid and had fallen into it while drinking. But he did
not recall having seen a single one at any time and if they were so
plentiful that they invaded fully half his cups, it seemed that he must
have observed them for they were of extraordinary size, being nearly an
inch long.
David cut open one after another of the muffin-like pieces as he found
them; each contained one or more of the ants. That fact confirmed his
suspicions. Then he pulled out one of the insects and examined it
minutely; and the first thing he saw was that it was headless. He cut
and broke the mass of rubber into small bits, but the missing head could
not be found. A hurried examination of a number of other pieces produced
the same result. All the insects had been decapitated and were in about
the center of the mass, indicating that they had been dropped into the
cups some time after the sap began to flow--probably late in the
afternoon.
The whole thing was perfectly clear to David now. After finishing his
work in the smokehouse Miguel stole back over David’s trail with a
supply of the ants he had gathered at some nest he had discovered and
placed them in the containers. He recalled now that Miguel was always
among the first to finish the smoking and often disappeared shortly
after. Also, it was not surprising that he should want to have revenge
on the person who had humiliated him.
David determined that he would feign ignorance of his discovery and trap
the culprit at his game. He did not trouble to collect the coagulated
masses, for they would only be thrown into the scrap heap, but tossed
them aside and placed new cups into position.
That afternoon David was passing the time with his lasso, as usual;
several of the men who had finished their task were watching him and
offering advice when up walked Miguel.
The thrashing he had received rankled. He had lost prestige with the
men; and he was determined to square the account.
David saw at a glance that Miguel was in an ugly mood and bent on
starting trouble, but pretended not to notice him.
For a moment the Brazilian said nothing. But the look on his face as he
watched David plainly showed the thoughts that were in his mind.
“That was wonderful,” he said finally and with a note of sarcasm in his
voice, as David, throwing at one of the men who ran past, thus serving
as a moving target, missed. “Keep it up and you’ll soon be foreman of
the ranch.”
Strange to say, none of the men laughed. Their sympathy was entirely
with David and this added to Miguel’s anger.
“And how about that fancy swimming you talked so much about?” he added.
“Who, me?” David seemed surprised. “I don’t remember saying anything
about it.”
“I do, and I have witnesses. You said you would go anywhere I would.”
“All right. I’ll go any time you say.”
“The water is full of crocodiles. You won’t go in when you see them, and
then they,” pointing to the others, “will see how brave you are. And if
you do go in you’ll be eaten in a minute, because you can’t swim well
enough to----”
“I’ll go at any time and place you say and I’ll do anything you will.
Right now suits me. Now come on, or shut up,” David interrupted him
hotly.
Miguel flushed and moved his feet uneasily, but there was now no getting
out of it.
“The lagoon,” he said grimly. “We’ll go to the lagoon.”
“No, Miguel; not there.” One of the men stepped forward as if to stop
him. “It is full of _caimen_ and they are the largest and most savage of
any place. Go to the river.”
“Get out of the way!” Miguel pushed him aside.
David had not even heard that there was a lagoon in the neighborhood,
but followed his challenger as he walked away. Without fully realizing
what he was doing he still retained hold of the rope. In his belt he had
only the long brush knife each man carried; the revolver was in his
hammock in the shack where he invariably placed it upon his return from
the forest at noon.
The men who had been present followed the two in a straggling line. The
thing that was about to happen might have a thrilling ending and they
did not want to miss it.
Miguel took a trail that was new to David and walked rapidly through the
semi-gloom of the heavy jungle. He was grimly silent. He realized the
serious nature of the mission; he had spoken hastily and now regretted
his conduct. But, much to his surprise, David had accepted promptly, and
now, with the others following, there was nothing to do but see the
thing through.
After half an hour’s walk, during which no one spoke, they reached a
point where the forest grew thinner and the patches of sky showing
through the branches ahead of them were larger. They were coming to the
jungle’s end.
Then the trees were replaced by a growth of brush in scattered clumps
and the ground was soggy underfoot. Ahead of them glistened a sheet of
water fringed with reeds and grass. Here and there was a cluster of
tall, feathery bamboo in which large, crested birds were fluttering and
croaking. A number of tall herons, frightened from their places of
concealment by the newcomers, flapped heavily across the opening,
voicing their resentment in hoarse squawks.
A more desolate place would be hard to picture, but Miguel did not
falter. He picked his way carefully over the muddy path and made
straight for the lagoon, David not ten feet in back of him and the
others bringing up the rear.
It happened so suddenly that at first David did not know what took
place. Miguel was just rounding one of the dense clumps of bushes when
he gave a wild cry of terror and sank down into the grass. There was a
struggle of some kind going on. The tall blades beside the trail waved
and crumpled; there was the sound of a heavy body thumping in the mud;
and Miguel’s screams filled the air.
“Help! help! help! For heaven’s sake, help me!” he was calling
frantically.
David thought the unfortunate man had been seized by a giant snake. He
looked back to where the other men had been; they were fleeing down the
trail for their lives and calling to him to follow them.
Just then Miguel’s head and shoulders appeared above the waving grass.
He was clutching wildly at the stems and sprouts, but they either gave
way or his grasp was broken by an irresistible force that was dragging
him rapidly toward the lagoon.
David started for the man on a run; and then he saw that Miguel was in
the clutches of a monster crocodile. The repulsive reptile had seized
him by one foot and was moving away with surprising agility--so fast,
in fact, that David could not hope to overtake it before it reached the
muddy water.
Miguel’s position seemed hopeless; in a few moments he would be dragged
to the bottom and drowned.
David’s mind was in a turmoil. His only weapon was the long knife in his
belt, but that was useless at the moment. But there was the rope with
which he had been toying when the trouble started and which was still in
his hands. Almost before he realized what he was doing the noose was
whirling over his head; the next instant it was soaring through the air,
opening as it went, and as it sped on its way he prayed that it would
find its mark.
By this time the crocodile had reached the bare, muddy flat bordering
the water. In another moment it would disappear into the stagnant depths
with its terror-stricken victim.
The rope flew after it with a whining sound and sent up a shower of thin
mud as it struck. Then it lay limp. The noose had failed in its mission.
A cry of despair escaped David when he realized what had happened; and
then a tug, a violent pull, brought him to his senses. Luckily he still
had the end of the rope in his hands, but he soon found that he had not
the strength to stop the rush of the great creature. He was as nothing
compared to the powerful reptile, which pulled him along as if
unconscious of any hindrance.
A clump of thick sprouts grew just off the trail to one side of him.
They offered the one means of
[Illustration: He delivered thrust after thrust with his right at the
vulnerable neck and throat.]
salvation open to the man. David swerved around the growth and the drag
on the line became less; and when he had encircled it there was scarcely
any pull at all, for he had made a complete hitch around the stout
stems, which now served as an unyielding anchor.
The crocodile had come to an abrupt halt. It lashed its tail from side
to side and writhed in its efforts to free itself from the grip of the
rope that encircled one of its legs; but it still clung tenaciously to
the man, unwilling to release him when but a few steps separated it from
its element.
David worked with frantic haste. He tied the end of the rope to one of
the stems and, drawing the knife with its two-foot blade, rushed toward
the struggling monster.
“Save me! Save me!” Miguel was crying piteously, and in his anxiety
David cast caution to the winds and dashed at the reptile, knife raised
high above his shoulder. The next thing he knew he found himself
sprawling in the mud where a powerful blow of the crocodile’s tail had
sent him. He arose immediately, but this time he approached more
cautiously.
“Use your own knife,” he shouted. “Hack at the eyes, the throat--any
place at all!”
These words carried a ray of hope with them and for the first time
Miguel seemed to regain his reason. He drew the shining blade from the
scabbard and rained a shower of blows on the creature’s head, making it
bellow with pain and rage.
Blood began to stream from the numerous gashes, but still it refused to
relinquish its victim. It was too occupied, however, to pay further
attention to David; in a moment he had leaped astride the armor-covered
back and, clutching the rough plates with his left hand, he delivered
thrust after thrust with his right at the vulnerable neck and throat.
Roars and bellows escaped the struggling reptile as it shook its huge
body in vain efforts to rid itself of its adversary and filled the air
with a shower of the thin mud. However, the odds against it were too
great. Its efforts grew weaker and after a few minutes there were only
the convulsive movements of its massive legs and tail. Its head had been
almost severed from the body.
David pried open the great jaws with the blade of his knife and released
Miguel’s foot; then he carried him to the grass and removed his shoe to
examine the extent of his injury. He found that two of the thick,
peg-like teeth had entered the flesh. Obviously the crocodile had broken
some of its teeth in previous encounters, or the man would not have
escaped so easily. He bore the pain stolidly even when David probed the
wound to encourage bleeding, for he dared not wash it with the stagnant
water of the lagoon.
Just then the men reappeared. They had witnessed the combat from a
distance, but now that it was over they came back and discussed it in
loud, excited voices.
David went to get his rope and paced the distance beside the crocodile,
finding it over twenty feet in length. Then he returned to the group.
“Miguel will have to be carried back to camp,” he said. “He must not
walk until I can wash and dress his foot properly. You can all take
turns carrying him, first one, then the other. Now, let’s start.”
They obeyed mechanically, glad to be under the direction of the man who
was now a hero in their sight, although they were still too dazed fully
to appreciate it.
CHAPTER XIII
ADRIFT IN THE FOREST
That night each one of the men who had witnessed the encounter of the
afternoon described it in minutest detail to the others who had not been
present. Even the Indians learned of it and came over in a body to hear
the story told and retold, and then returned to their own shelters to
discuss it far into the night.
David was embarrassed by this great amount of attention.
“It was nothing,” he assured them. “Each one of you would have done the
same thing if you had had a rope.”
“No, we wouldn’t,” they said, “especially if he had treated us the way
he did you. He started it and was taking you there hoping you would
be----”
“Never mind that part of it. It’s all over now and, as I said before, it
was nothing. I’m sure Miguel was only joking.”
Miguel sat brooding through it all and David could not fail to notice
it.
“He’s sorry he put the ants into my rubber,” he thought with a smile.
“Well, there won’t be any more of them for a few days at least, because
he won’t be able to walk for a while. And, even when he can walk again,
he can’t possibly be mean enough to play any more pranks like that on
me.”
It was therefore with a light heart that he started over his route the
next morning. He had first looked at Miguel’s foot; it was swollen, but
showed no signs of infection; so he washed and dressed it and told the
man that if he remained in his hammock for a few days he would be all
right. Miguel submitted to the ministrations and advice without a word.
He seemed eager to have David care for his injured foot, but if he
appreciated the attentions he received he gave no evidence of it.
“He certainly is a queer character, but as Tiny Tim said, ‘God bless us
every one.’ I can’t figure him out,” David thought as he left the shack.
The first few trees he visited had not been tampered with. The little
cups were full of the precious, snowy liquid. He was positive now that
his conjecture had been right. Miguel was the culprit; as he had not
been able to visit the route the day before the catch had not been
spoiled.
Then great was his consternation to find that the very next cup was
filled with a little cake of curdled latex, as before; and upon cutting
it open he found the decapitated ants.
Miguel was not the guilty one, after all. But who was? Someone was
certainly responsible for the state of affairs. The ants could not drop
their heads and then plunge into the white liquid that served as their
graves.
Continuing his walk along the trail, he found that numerous other trees
had been visited by the prowler that did so much harm, the same trees in
most instances as before. There was now no one whom David could suspect
and the solution of the mystery seemed hopeless. But he would outwit
them all. Without saying a word to anyone, he would select a new line
and tap the trees, being careful not to leave a blazed trail that would
be so easy to follow.
He began to collect the sap and threw the curdled pieces away as he
turned his steps campward.
Then a peculiar thing happened, so unexpected that it was startling. He
had just rounded a bend in the trail. Ten yards ahead of him stood a
thick hevea tree scarred by the cuts he had made. A flickering movement
caught his eye; it was near the folded cup that served to catch the sap.
Stopping in his tracks he looked intently at the little container, but
saw nothing. He stood a full minute without removing his gaze from the
spot, and just as he began to think that the flickering object had been
a falling leaf his persistence was rewarded.
A long, curved beak, followed by a brown head and two bright eyes,
appeared cautiously around the tree trunk. David did not move. After a
moment’s pause a brown bird about eight inches long hopped into view; it
looked like a woodpecker, clinging to the bark with its feet and using
its tail as a prop to sit on when it stopped to rest. David recognized
it as a woodhewer, of which there were many species in the forest.
The bird now hopped along fearlessly and for the first time the man
noticed that it held something in its beak. It made straight for the
cup and dropped the object it had been carrying into it. Immediately
after, it flew away; a few undulating dashes through the air and it had
alighted on the base of a neighboring tree and at once began to hop
nimbly up the straight trunk. Soon it disappeared into a hole high
overhead, which was apparently the entrance to its nesting cavity. In a
moment it came out again and, clinging to the bark, hammered vigorously
some object it had brought out of the cavity; then it flew to the
nearest hevea and dropped the morsel into the little pool of sap forming
in the leaf-cup.
David watched the bird make several more trips between its nest and the
nearby rubber trees. The mystery was solved. It was catching the ants
that invaded its domicile, pounding off their heads against the rough
bark and then disposing of the remains by dropping them into the nearest
pool of liquid it could find, possibly to make doubly sure that they
would not again come to life to disturb it. If the nearest pool happened
to be a cup of latex the bird, of course, used it and David suffered
thereby.
The woodhewers were plentiful in the forest, which accounted for the
fact that so many trees had been visited by them. He wondered why the
men had not told him about this.
David said nothing about his discovery when he reached camp. But that
afternoon, when he had finished his work in the smokehouse, he took a
long walk in the forest, visiting the routes of several of the men. He
found, as he had confidently expected, that the proportion of their
trees visited by the birds was as great as on his own line; but the men
had made up for the loss by extending their lines and bringing new trees
into bearing as fast as others had to be discarded.
This knowledge clearly pointed out to David the course he had to follow.
And early the following morning found him prepared to extend his trail
or open a new one. He carried his pail, as usual; in addition, the
long-handled ax for tapping the new trees. His revolver and knife were
in his belt.
When he reached the end of the trail he put down the pail and continued
walking through the forest; the country was all new to him, but he had
no difficulty in locating rubber trees. They seemed more plentiful than
ever, if anything. Clumps of them stood among the palms and other tall
growths.
As he penetrated farther and farther into the thick jungle he snapped or
turned twigs every few steps so that there would be no trouble in
finding his way back.
He had been travelling in this manner more or less steadily for the
greater part of two hours and had covered a distance of three or four
miles. No less than two hundred new trees had been added to his line;
when they produced freely, as they would within a week, his daily catch
would compare favorably with that of the best in spite of the
depredations of the woodhewers.
To one side of him grew a very tall tree, towering high above its
fellows; the trunk was straight and about four feet through, and David
estimated that the lowest limb was fully sixty feet above the ground
while the topmost twigs must have been a hundred and fifty feet above
his head. There were numbers of round objects hanging from the branches.
He wondered what they were, and thinking that some of them might have
fallen to the ground he walked to the tree to see if he could find one.
Before long he found one of the large, cannon-ball-like objects, and
upon breaking it open found a number of Brazil nuts inside. He stooped
to crack one, but the blows from his knife never fell; from directly
above him came the most peculiar song he had ever heard. It rose clear
and ringing, setting the jungle a-tingle with its resonance, and
swelling airily and easily until it seemed to penetrate the body of the
listener.
_Oo-whee whee-e-e oo_ came the song, first low and plaintive, then
rising to a very loud yet mellow pitch and again descending to the low,
sad _oo_, finally ending in a few almost inaudible _churrs_. It sounded
somewhat like the ringing of a bell.
Now, David had read about the bell birds of the South American forest
and he felt that this must be one of them. Without rising, his eyes
searched the branches overhead. The notes had come from so close at hand
that the singer must have been in one of the lower growths, almost
within reach of the man’s hand.
There was not a stir among the leaves; the bird was not moving and would
be harder to locate for that reason. As David gazed into the lacy
vegetation about him the song was suddenly repeated and with such
startling clearness that it sounded nearer than before. He looked
quickly in the direction from which it had come, but saw nothing. It was
exasperating; a creature capable of producing such a volume of sound
must be of considerable size. Then why could not he see it, especially
since it was so close to him?
A short time later a second voice came, as if in answer to the first,
but it was some distance away, reaching but faintly through the maze of
vegetation on the right. David turned his head in the direction from
which the new song had come, involuntarily, and at the same moment the
voice of the first singer rang out even louder than before.
_Oo-whee whee-oo!_ The swelling cadence cut the silence with appalling
suddenness. It was uncanny, for try as he would David could not locate
the bird that was calling. Either it was an accomplished ventriloquist
and was not where he expected to find it, or it was so small and
inconspicuously colored that it was hard to see.
That was the last time the song was repeated in the near vicinity. Again
and again the bursts of sound, rising and falling in astonishing volume,
came to the bewildered listener, but now they were all in the distance.
The songsters were all around him and the forest rang with their clear,
penetrating notes.
“I’m going to see one of them if it takes the rest of the day,” David
said between clenched teeth. “That first one was right in front of my
eyes, or I couldn’t have heard it so well. Why didn’t I see it then?”
He went to the tree from which the nearest song was flowing; when he
reached it there was only silence. After a moment’s wait he left the
spot and went to another where several birds were calling. But they
immediately hushed their voices. Then he went to another, and another.
But each time he changed positions the voice he sought was quickly
silenced while the jungle resounded with the others, all of which were
some little distance away.
It occurred to him that his abrupt movements might be frightening the
creatures, so he tried stealing noiselessly from one place to another;
but still the result was the same. It was like pursuing some
will-o’-the-wisp, always within reach but always unattainable.
An hour passed, but David took no note of the fleeting time. A second
slipped by and a third had started into the abyss that has neither
beginning nor end, when the persistence and patience of the watcher were
rewarded. He saw a dark object dart from one branch to another and then
clearly made out the form of the bird as it sat motionless on its thick
perch. It was the size of a robin and of a uniform, slaty-black color;
the latter fact explained why it was so hard to see in the gloom of the
forest vault.
The bird sat quietly for several minutes while David stirred not a
muscle. Then it raised its head and poured out the flood of sound that
had been so baffling to the man.
“I was determined to see it, and I did; but I had no idea I was so long
about it,” David mused, consulting his watch. “I’ll have to hustle now.
Let’s see, just where am I?”
He looked around for a moment; the trees on all sides looked alike. In
the excitement of his pursuit he had neglected to bend twigs to mark his
path.
His predicament was amusing, perhaps even a trifle annoying--nothing
more. A few precious minutes more would be wasted while he got his
bearings and he would be just that much later in reaching camp. He did
not stop to think what would happen when he got there.
“The trail is in this direction and camp is right over there,” he
thought.
Having reached these conclusions he started away at a rapid pace; and he
walked longer than he thought he should have to strike the
trail--without striking it. But he kept on doggedly until he was forced
to admit that his guess had been a mistaken one.
He stopped and again calculated carefully just which direction was the
right one to take; and again a fruitless, tiring walk rewarded his
efforts. When he tried to get his bearings for the third time he was
forced to admit to himself that he was hopelessly lost. The sun might
have been of use in the emergency, but in the forest there was no sun,
and night was fast approaching.
The first sensation that followed the realization that he was completely
lost was one of panic. And the first impulse was to dash away
frantically without heed to direction. However, David remained master of
himself to the extent that he quelled these feelings; he sat down on a
convenient log. He would think it over, as calmly as he could, and
decide what best had be done.
It came to him clearly now. He had followed the voice of the jungle
siren without the slightest regard to the direction in which he went. He
had not the faintest idea how far he had gone. He did not know where his
old trail or the end of the new one was; perhaps they were many miles
away. In short, he was just as much lost as ever.
Finally he decided that the best procedure was to walk in gradually
widening circles; at some time the circumference must bisect a point he
knew. One direction was as good as another to start with, so he started,
walking rapidly; and by bearing slightly to the right he was sure his
steps must cover a circuitous course.
Nightfall found him still at sea as to his whereabouts. He gathered a
pile of wood, started a fire and then sat down between the blaze and the
butt of a thick _castanha_ tree. No sleep came to him that night. All
through the hours of blackness, peopled with invisible forms and strange
noises, he kept his lonely vigil, straining his ears for the shots or
calls of the searching party he was sure would be sent for him.
When daylight came there was nothing to do but resume the tramp of the
day before, for he had been unable to think of a better plan.
Fortunately, he came across a giant armadillo digging for grubs in a
decayed stump, and promptly killed it before the stupid creature
withdrew its head from the rubbish to discover his presence.
It was a monster of its kind and weighed half a hundredweight. The head,
body, legs and tail were completely encased in bony armor, and the claws
it used in procuring its food would have measured eight inches long.
David built a fire on the spot and soon pieces of the tender white
flesh, roasted thoroughly, were satisfying the hunger of two days’
duration. He cooked every morsel, wrapped what he did not eat in leaves,
and then fastened the pack to his back with strips of bark. It might be
days before another opportunity to procure food so easily presented
itself.
When the third day had passed the seriousness of his position came to
David in an unexpected manner. The thing that caused him to stop
suddenly while a feeling of terror came over him was the first sign of
oncoming fever.
That dread scourge of the tropical jungle struck without warning and
David had read and heard enough about it to recognize it at the first
onslaught--a feeling of utter exhaustion, followed by chills that made
his teeth chatter even though the vegetation, high overhead, was wilting
in the glare of the brassy sun. His entire body trembled violently as he
sank in a heap to the ground. After that came a burning fever, so that
for an hour he tossed in intense agony.
The attack finally subsided, leaving him limp and helpless. After a time
he gathered enough strength to kindle a fire, beside which he spent a
miserable night.
Once he sank into a light sleep; he was awakened by the sound of
shuffling footsteps in the dry leaves. Some large animal was watching
him, although he could not see it in the darkness. He threw wood on the
fire and as the flames leaped up there was a heavy crashing in the
underbrush as the startled creature dashed away.
The malady returned at increasingly frequent intervals, like some
insidious enemy sure of its victim but in no undue haste to accomplish
its vile purpose. David could not bear up under the repeated attacks. At
the end of a week he was too ill to continue the ceaseless and now
hopeless tramp that took him nowhere.
His food had given out; and he had no desire to eat even if there had
been food in abundance. His one thought was of companionship; with
someone near him the whole frightful experience would not be so hard to
bear--even if it came to the worst. But alone, with only the gloomy
forest and its furtive wild folk about him, it was terrifying. His
thoughts wandered to far-off things, especially to those he had insisted
on leaving back at home. Then he remembered his enthusiasm when first he
had seen the Amazonian jungle from the deck of the steamer. It had
seemed to challenge him; he remembered that distinctly. “Come if you
dare,” it had said, “and I will overwhelm you.”
Full of confidence in his own ability he had accepted the bold defiance
hurled at him by the mystery-enshrouded walls of green. He had lost, but
he had only himself to blame.
Not a word of complaint escaped his lips. While there was life there was
hope; he would sleep a while, if possible, or at any rate rest for a
time. Then he would take up the fight anew. His head would be clearer
and some way was bound to occur to him that would get him out of the
difficulty.
Oblivion came quickly--too quickly, in fact, to portend anything of a
wholesome nature; and for an hour he lay quiet as death. He was awakened
from his stupor by fiery stings in one hand that had been stretched out
far from his body. He drew it toward him and raised it unsteadily to see
what was causing the pain. Several large, black ants were clinging to
it, their vise-like mandibles embedded deeply in his skin. With a great
effort he tore away the ferocious insects and raised himself on his
elbows. What he saw caused a cry of horror to escape his lips.
An ant army, the most relentless of all the creatures that infest the
tropical forest, was approaching. Already the leading files had
discovered him; some had attacked without delay, while others had
hurried back to the main column to convey the news of their find.
David summoned all the strength at his command in an effort to rise to
his feet. But the exertion was in vain, and after several futile
attempts he knew that escape was impossible. However, he might ward off
the end if----
Slowly and laboriously he tried rolling over the ground. It was hard
work, but finally he succeeded in making a complete turn. A pause for
rest, then another turn and a distance of nearly three yards had been
gained on the avalanche of ants that was sweeping towards him. Perhaps
he could evade the insatiable horde after all; but when he struggled to
roll again it seemed that his last chance had vanished, for directly in
his path was an obstacle he could not surmount in the form of a fallen
tree that blocked all progress for a distance of fifty feet each way.
The realization that escape was cut off in the one direction that had
seemed open came as a disheartening shock. He lay back limp and
helpless; to his ears came the sound of the insects swarming over the
dry leaves, like the patter of a shower of rain. His brain reeled and
the blood roared in his veins. In desperation he covered his face with
his hands.
“Lord,” he prayed, “I’m not blaming anybody but myself for getting into
this, but if I get out of it I’ll know You helped.”
CHAPTER XIV
THE RESCUE FROM THE ANT ARMY
When David failed to return to camp at the usual time little was thought
of it by those who noticed his absence. It was not until the foreman
came around on his daily tour of inspection of the smokehouses that
mention was made of it. It was then past mid-afternoon.
“You, Mariano, go to the _dormitorio_ to see if he is there,” he said.
“He may be sick.”
Mariano dropped his work and hurried out. Soon he returned.
“He is not there,” he said, “and the cook said he has not come in yet.
He’s been waiting for him.”
“Wonder what’s keeping him,” the foreman said uneasily. “Did he say
anything to anybody this morning about going farther than usual?”
A chorus of “No, Senhor,” and “Not to me” came in response to the
inquiry.
The chief bit his lip.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said. “If he comes let me know at once. Don’t go
away when you are through with your work. I may need all of you.”
A half hour passed and still there was no sign of the missing David. The
foreman came in--visibly agitated.
“Get ready, every last one of you,” he ordered. “Either the boy is lost
or met with some accident. You must find him. Shout as you go and those
of you who have guns fire them. Scatter out far and wide over the
country. Those of you who find or see nothing come back after dark. I
will pay twenty-five milreis to the man who finds him or brings back the
first news of him. Now get your bottles; the cook will fill them with
coffee and give you each a package of food. Then hurry away up the
trail.”
The men departed immediately to do as they were directed. Not long
after, they filed into the forest, alert for any sign or clue that would
be of value to them in looking for the missing man. From time to time
some of them branched off the main path until they had spread out in a
fan-shaped formation that combed the forest in a thorough manner so far
as it went. They kept calling and occasionally there was the report of a
gun.
Before long, however, they were out of hearing of one another.
Therefore, it was not until long after dark, when the last man had
straggled back into camp, that they knew that the search had been
fruitless.
The new trail that David had started that morning had been discovered,
but darkness had come before it could be followed to its end; and they
brought back the empty pail--nothing more.
The uneasiness of mid-afternoon now gave way to consternation. A hundred
explanations were forthcoming to account for his disappearance. Everyone
seemed greatly concerned, but most of all Dom Carlos, the camp foreman.
From the obscure position of “nobody” David had suddenly risen to be the
most important person in the outfit. In contrast to the aloofness with
which he had still been regarded by a few of the men, they now all
joined in extolling his courage and good qualities and pledged
themselves that he must be found at all hazards. The monetary reward was
tripled to give further impetus to their efforts.
Six men were sent out immediately after supper to light fires in the
jungle and to keep them blazing all night, to serve as beacons in the
event that the wanderer should be trying to find his way in the
darkness. They went in pairs and followed widely diverging trails. And
when they returned at dawn the others who had slept in camp started out,
this time, however, spreading in all directions to cover so much of the
country as possible.
Foremost among the searchers was Miguel. He had not fully recovered from
his encounter with the crocodile; his foot still pained him at times;
but, thanks to David’s ministrations, he had the use of it to a
considerable extent. It was he who had found the new trail and had
followed it until darkness made it impossible to go farther the previous
evening. He had returned the pail and collected the first reward. And
now he was determined to take up the search where he had been compelled
to drop it.
The men had been told to carry food for one day only and to come back
that night. But the stock of provisions on Miguel’s back was sufficient
for three days; and, having no gun, he carried his bow and a dozen
arrows in his pack.
The grim expression on his face plainly showed that he was determined to
find David; he owed him a debt of gratitude he could scarcely repay in
any other manner, but, unfortunately, he had never thought of it in that
light. What he did think of and looked forward to was a meeting in some
far-off spot where he would have the opportunity to settle old scores,
safe from the prying eyes of others.
Alone in the towering forest, with only the silent trees as witnesses,
it would be easy to dispose of the one obstacle that stood between him
and complete leadership of the men. Once before, when the opportunity
had been within his grasp, fate had intervened to rob him of his
victory; that was when the crocodile had attacked him instead of David
after the latter had entered the water. Now, he had all the advantage.
Better for David that he remain forever lost in the forest than be found
by the vengeful Miguel.
The first day passed rapidly, for a man hunt was a new experience and it
was a fascinating occupation. He scanned the forest floor, the
tree-trunks, and the lower growth for any traces that would aid him in
his search.
On the second afternoon Miguel found the fire where David had roasted
the armadillo. That encouraged him. He was on the right track. And he
redoubled his efforts, as does the hound when the scent grows hotter.
His eyes glowed with a strange fire at the thought that he might at any
moment catch sight of his quarry.
David had learned the truth of the saying that bad luck is apt to grow
worse; Miguel had never even heard it, but that did not exempt him from
its application. What both had yet to learn was that luck, particularly
bad luck, was only too often the result of some act for which they were
fully responsible. The beating Miguel had received and the narrowly
avoided drowning had been bad enough; but worse was to come.
He awoke on the third morning to discover that his remaining food supply
had disappeared during the night, and the completeness with which it had
vanished made it evident that a colony of ants had done the work. That
was exasperating, but there was game to be shot with arrows, so the
situation was not serious.
After that came the realization that the search was extending over a
wider territory and greater period of time than he had expected. And he
began to wonder if he should find David, after all.
It was that night, however, that he felt the merciless judgment of the
forest in all the impartial rigor which was its law. Those who sought to
ferret out its secrets must pay the penalty and Miguel was no exception.
It swooped down upon him in the same guise it had assumed when it fell
upon David, and while his teeth beat a tattoo, or as the hot blood
coursed throbbingly through his veins, he began to comprehend the
seriousness of the mission on which he had embarked, and to wonder if
the purpose was worth the cost.
The fever ran its usual course. Miguel wandered about in a dazed
condition and when there was finally a lull in the onslaught he found
himself in an unenviable predicament. He too was lost, and for the first
time in his life.
With that realization came the feeling of utter loneliness. Never before
had he felt so completely forsaken, so bewildered, so hopeless. He
longed for the sound of a voice, a glimpse of a friendly face, or the
touch of a sympathetic hand.
It was terrible, this being lost and alone in the silent, heartless
jungle that gave no quarter, that knew not the words pity or mercy.
Gaunt spectres rose on every side; hideous naked Indians pierced him
through with their poisoned darts; serpents struck with envenomed fangs;
and jaguars of enormous size crouched behind each tree-trunk for the
fatal spring.
It had always been thus. It would always be thus. The fever-crazed brain
of a lone man, lost in the tropical jungle, could conjure pictures
without end.
As the days passed Miguel’s desperation increased. All thoughts of
malevolence vanished. If he found David now he would rush to him
joyfully. It would mean companionship, perhaps even salvation. Anything,
anyone to banish the horror of a living death alone in the treacherous
forest.
It was at this point that Miguel heard the twittering of the ant wrens,
and well he knew what their excited cries meant. They had discovered an
ant army on the march and had gathered in numbers to profit by the
marauders’ depredations.
The sound of their calls, even if they were only birds, came as a
blessed relief to the man driven frantic by the breathless silence of
the forest. To see, to be near any living thing, would be infinitely
better than the dread loneliness. He would go toward the chorus of
voices that his fever-dulled brain pictured as possible saviors of his
reason.
Before long he reached the far-flung lines of ants that served as scouts
on the flanks of the main army. The organization and discipline of the
insects was as wonderful as it was terrible to the victims, for it
precluded all possibility of escape.
Miguel stopped to look at the black ribbons flowing over the forest
floor. Thin lines branched off from the main arteries every few yards;
these explored each leaf and crevice, ascending even to the tops of the
tallest trees in their insatiable quest of victims.
In front of the sweeping mass and on both sides was a horde of
terror-stricken creeping, crawling and hopping creatures making frantic
efforts to escape from inevitable doom. There were rhinoceros beetles
with huge antler-like growths on their fore-bodies; centipedes eight
inches long; scorpions wildly lashing their tails armed with poisonous
curved stings; great hairy tarantulas, wood frogs, and many other living
things. Some crawled to the topmost branches of the lower undergrowth of
ferns and like vegetation and remained there motionless during a brief
respite; but they were always discovered and routed by the ants. Others
fled precipitately up the tree-trunks; and still others came out of
their hiding-places only to curl up sullenly and to await the end.
Suddenly the ant army divided. Scouts had in some mysterious manner
brought back the intelligence of an unusual find and the main column had
promptly responded with reinforcements. Miguel saw and understood. At
the same time, the ant birds that had first attracted his attention set
up a furious chatter. Here was the opportunity to see something of an
unusual nature.
Miguel crawled upon a great prostrate tree-trunk in order to have a
better view of what was going on. It was toward this log that the ants
were rushing in a black sheet. And it was there the birds were scolding
in anguish.
About the first thing Miguel saw when he attained the top of the log was
the body of a man lying on the ground as if dead. The hands covered the
face so that he could not see it, but he recognized the clothing and
knew that it could belong to none other than David Jones.
“_Camarada!_” he cried, at the same time dropping down beside the
motionless figure. “It is I, Miguel, who have found you. _Por dios_, and
just in time.”
It required all his depleted strength to raise David to his feet; then
he took the limp form in his arms and slowly carried it to safety--out
of reach of the ravenous horde that sensed the intrusion and sent
skirmishing lines dashing in all directions in frantic efforts to
locate the prize so suddenly snatched from its grasp.
David opened his eyes slowly. When he saw the man who had just deposited
him on the ground, puffing hard from his exertion, he stared in
amazement. Then the remembrance of something dreadful came back to him
in a flash. He weakly raised his arms and placed his hands over his
face.
“Oh, the ants, the ants,” he moaned. “They are all over me. I can feel
their bites--they are killing me and--I can’t get away. I can’t get over
the log.”
“No, they’re not,” Miguel panted, trying to soothe him. “You are safe
now. I will not let them get you. Look, there isn’t one on you; they’re
far away, on the other side of the log, and I’ll carry you farther
before they come near here.”
“But I can feel them, on my hands and face--everywhere,” David
persisted.
“Sh!” Miguel said. “Keep quiet and everything will be all right.”
It was some time before the delirious man could be calmed. But Miguel
finally succeeded in reassuring him that the danger that had threatened
was now past, and with the realization that he was safe from the ants
came a measure of strength.
“I was sure something would happen--someone would find me before they
got to me,” David said faintly after a while. Miguel had propped him up
against the base of a tree while he plucked and prepared to roast a
_mutum_ that looked like a good-sized turkey; he had just shot the bird
in the tree right over their heads. “I never gave up hope and, Miguel,
I’m glad it was you who found me.”
“Me?” in surprise. “Why did you want me to find you?”
“I don’t know. I just wanted it to be you--maybe just to prove to the
others that we could be good friends if it came down to rock bottom.”
“Umph!” Miguel’s thoughts were travelling in strange channels. He felt
queer as he thought of the purpose he had in mind when he started on the
long search. What if he had found David the first few days after leaving
camp?
“I’m glad I found you, too, when I did,” he said. “But neither one of us
has anything much to be glad about.”
“What do you mean? I feel better already. And I’m hungry. We can start
back tomorrow if I can eat as much of that bird as I think I can. They
told me that you’re the best bushman in the crowd, so we’ll take a short
cut back to camp,” David said confidently.
“That’s just it! I didn’t want to tell you right away, but now I can’t
help it. We can’t start back to camp because--because--” Miguel
hesitated as if reluctant to proceed. “We can’t start back because I’m
lost, too.”
CHAPTER XV
THE CHARGE OF THE INDIANS
When Miguel admitted that he, too, was lost, the intelligence came as a
great shock to David. One of his first thoughts upon seeing his rescuer
was that at last his aimless, heart-breaking wanderings in the forest
had come to an end. The walk back to camp might be of several days’
duration, but that did not matter. It made a difference whether one was
walking in hopeless desperation because there was nothing else to do, or
whether there was a definite goal to reach and one had the assurance of
being on the right track. Now they were little better off than before.
However, he suppressed the bitter disappointment he felt and tried to
smile.
“How did that happen?” he asked. “I thought you couldn’t lose your way.”
“It was the fever,” Miguel said dejectedly. “Before that I knew where I
was every minute of the time. Now I can’t remember how I got here or how
many days I spent wandering around before my head cleared.”
“Well, the two of us together ought to find some way of getting
out--when I’m able to travel. And it’s better than being all alone.”
“Yes, the lonesomeness nearly drove me crazy. It was terrible. It was
the one thing I couldn’t stand. Fever, hunger--anything but that.”
Miguel turned the bird, which had been impaled on a stick, and when it
had browned to a uniform color on all sides he brought it to the tree
where David sat and stuck the stick into the ground. They cut off pieces
of the tender flesh with their knives, but David’s appetite was not
nearly so good as he had thought, while the absence of salt robbed the
meat of much of its flavor.
“I could open one of the cartridges in my revolver,” he said, “and use
the powder for salt; but we might need it more to shoot with before we
get out of this.”
Miguel agreed that they had better save the ammunition for the purpose
for which it was intended.
“How do you feel now?” he asked.
“I knew I’d feel better, and I do,” David replied. “But the fever left
me all wrung out like a wet rag. Wish we had some quinine!”
“Quinine is good, but _guanabara_ is better. The root grows in the
forest. I hunted for it every day but couldn’t find it. I’ll look again.
Maybe there is some near here. But first we need a shelter. We have to
stay here a few days at least. You are too weak to walk far. I’ll build
a place to sleep first and then I’ll go in search of the medicine.”
David wanted to help in the construction of their shelter, but that, of
course, was out of the question. Even the sitting posture had tired him
so much that he slid to the ground, where he lay watching Miguel as he
proceeded to erect the structure that was to house them until they
should resume their wandering.
First he cut stout poles and fastened them to either side of two thick
trees that stood about ten feet apart, by tying them to the trunks with
strips of bark. Then he fastened cross-pieces to the poles, thus making
a platform that was shoulder high above the ground. He piled dry palm
leaves on this for a bed. After that he fastened two other poles a few
feet above the platform and covered them with green palm leaves that
hung down far over the sides, forming a roof.
The work required only a short time and the shelter that had been
provided was entirely practicable and serviceable. Miguel surveyed it
proudly as he explained its good points.
“It’s up high enough to be out of reach of snakes, scorpions, spiders
and most of the mosquitoes; they all like to stay close to the ground.
And if it should happen to rain, the roof will keep us dry,” he said.
David replied that he thought it was fine and would like to try it. The
springy platform with the thick layer of dry leaves would be more
comfortable than the hard ground.
Miguel helped him into the aerial perch and then went to hunt for the
_guanabara_ root that would cure them both of the fever. He did not
return until shortly before dark, and then it was only to report
failure. However, he would go again the following morning.
After the Brazilian, too, had climbed into the platform bed the two lay
awake and talked far into the night. One plan after another of escape
from their predicament was discussed, and finally sleep overtook them
before anything definite had been decided on.
The next day found both greatly refreshed, although David was still too
ill to stand without assistance. But the change that had come over
Miguel was remarkable; he cared for his companion in the best way he
knew how and was most solicitous for his welfare.
They ate pieces of the bird left from the previous night and then the
Brazilian again went to look for the medicinal root. This time he was
successful. He came back shortly before noon and announced his arrival
with a shout of triumph.
“Here it is at last,” he called as David peered out from under the
ragged palm-leaf roof. “Look! It is the guanabara. It will cure your
fever and mine. Thank _dios_, I found it!”
Miguel held several fleshy roots in his hand. They resembled slender
sweet potatoes, but were of a bluish color.
“Let me have one,” David said feebly. “I’d eat anything to get rid of
this awful feeling.”
“Wait! You can’t eat it raw, because it’s deadly poison that way. It has
to be fixed first. Watch me. Some time you might have to do it when
you’re alone.”
He laid a broad, green leaf on the ground and then scraped the roots
with his knife until they had been reduced to a heap of pulp. He took
the mass in his hands and pressed out the surplus juice, leaving a ball
of doughy material; this was tossed into the fire and turned with a
stick until it had baked thoroughly and evenly all around. When it had
assumed a black color, which was in half an hour, he pronounced it
ready for use.
Miguel now brought water in a folded leaf and scraped some of the
medicine into it, and gave it to David to drink. When the particles
dissolved they turned the water red, but the concoction was tasteless.
They drank the guanabara each hour, and before many doses had been taken
its effect began to make itself felt. It was bracing, even stimulating,
and all symptoms of malaria vanished as if by magic. Within two days
David was able to accompany Miguel on his daily hunt for food.
Fortunately, they were now in a section of the country where game was
not wanting. That indicated that they must be near a large river, for in
the dry season the animals were always more abundant in a strip several
miles wide bordering the larger streams.
“We’ll get a good supply of food; then we’ll hunt the river. If we can
locate it we can get out,” Miguel said as they started on their tramp
through the forest.
“Will we follow the river?” David asked.
“No. We’ll make a raft out of bamboo and float down.”
“I guess our luck has changed at last. Soon we’ll be back in camp.”
“We have to find the river first. When we have found it, who knows where
it will take us to? It might take us right back to camp, or many leagues
away from it.”
Miguel had his bow and a number of arrows. David was following close
behind him; it was his duty to mark their trail by snapping twigs as
they went along. Their shelter was too comfortable to lose so long as
they remained in the locality.
Before long they came upon a flock of four large black birds feeding in
the top of a tree. They were like the one Miguel had shot right after
finding David, and moved about heavily as they fed on the fruits that
grew on the branches.
The Brazilian took careful aim and released the cord of the bow. There
was a sharp snap and the arrow sped whining through the air. Just before
reaching the bird the shaft struck one of the numerous limbs a glancing
blow; that was sufficient to deflect the missile from its path and it
passed the mark by a goodly margin and continued its flight up above the
trees and out of sight.
The birds were not frightened, but continued eating as if they had not
noticed anything of an unusual nature in their midst. This was
fortunate, for it permitted Miguel to take a second shot; this time the
arrow found its mark and a great _mutum_ fell crashing to the ground
while the other three flew away.
The bird was dead when they reached it. They removed the arrow carefully
and then went to look for the first one that had been shot and gone
astray, for they had only a limited number and the time might come when
every one of them counted.
David thought the task of looking for the slender shaft in the thick
jungle was hopeless, but Miguel assured him that he had marked its
course as it soared over the trees.
“You see,” he added, “each one has a few bright-colored feathers on the
end in addition to the black ones that make it fly straight.”
“Yes, I see them. You put them there for ornaments, I know.”
“No, they are not ornaments. They are put there as markers. Look! There
is the lost one now.”
David saw what looked like a brilliant flower among the deep tints of
the undergrowth. It was the arrow sticking in the ground where it had
fallen; the red feather made it conspicuous among the green vegetation.
They recovered it and replaced it in the pack.
A short time later they were startled by a chorus of “Oh’s” that came
from the treetops not far ahead. The wails came in a rising crescendo,
as if their makers were suffering intense pain or were in great fear.
“Flying monkeys,” Miguel announced gleefully as he started on a run
toward the sound. David followed and soon saw the cause of the
disturbance in the form of small, grayish bodies hurtling through space
is if indeed flying.
The monkeys were leaping from tree to tree and swinging through the
branches at an incredible rate of speed. When they jumped, the boughs
sprang back into place with a _swish_ and the creatures landed with a
thud, keeping the treetops bending and swaying as in a heavy wind. All
the while they shrieked “Oh, oh, oh!” at the top of their voices.
Miguel sent an arrow after the fleeing animals and by a lucky
circumstance brought down one of them. It was unlike any monkey David
had ever seen, with a round head and a body like a very large cat’s.
The tail was long and bushy.
They returned to the shelter and while the meat was roasting determined
to start away early the following morning. They agreed that the rubber
camp must be in a southeasterly direction from their position and they
would therefore head that way, which was also the direction in which
they hoped to find the river. It was true, the jungle was heaviest and
progress would be slower; but, also, game was more abundant, and if they
discovered the waterway it would save them days of walking in the end.
If their calculations were correct the stream might even turn out to be
a branch of the river on which the camp was situated.
The forest changed considerably in character as they advanced through
it. Palms grew more abundantly than before and occasionally they saw a
clump of orchids perched high overhead with sprays of gorgeous blossoms
that drooped from among the leathery foliage like yard-long, brilliant
plumes.
David had just stopped to look at an exceptional cluster the size of a
tub and with panicles of deep orange flowers resembling a hundred
gorgeous butterflies. Miguel stopped at the same time and laid a warning
finger on his companion’s arm. He was staring straight ahead and,
looking in that direction, David saw a dark form shaped like a cow
silently appear from behind a clump of low palms. So soon as it was in
full view it stopped, turned and faced its back trail, raised its head
and sniffed the air. It had a very long nose that moved up and down as
it drew short breaths. Then it turned quickly and faced at right angles
to its previous position. At about the same time a volley of arrows
struck the animal with a crash and as it staggered away a chorus of wild
yells rent the air and a number of Indians rushed into view.
Miguel dropped to the ground the instant the arrows struck the tapir and
David was not long in following his example. They were just in time and
for the moment the Indians did not see them.
The stricken animal lurched forward only a few yards before it crumpled
and fell in a heap, and soon the savages were upon it, dispatching it
with clubs and spears.
That was the one opportunity that the white men must not lose if they
hoped to escape with their lives, for in the excitement of the moment
the Indians would not notice their movements.
Miguel began to crawl stealthily toward a nearby clump of thorny bamboo,
David following at his heels, and not until they reached the inside of
the dense growth did they breathe a sigh of relief.
The Indians continued giving their wild calls, as if signalling to other
members of their party, and before long numbers of them began to come in
from various directions. They came singly and in groups and still the
yelling continued.
They were a savage-looking lot, entirely nude save only for necklaces of
teeth and sticks tufted with feathers that they wore through large
perforations in their ears. Their brown bodies were painted in irregular
lines and dots of black, dark blue and red.
Each carried a bow and a number of arrows in his hands. Some also had
long-handled spears and sword-like weapons made of tough palmwood.
Several of the savages began to skin and cut up the tapir while others
went to gather firewood. First, however, each man disposed of his arms
by sticking them into the ground in a little cluster; that prevented the
possibility of their being stepped upon and broken.
“They are going to camp here for the night,” Miguel whispered. “We’ll
have to stay here until they leave.”
“That suits me. We can watch them but they can’t see us,” David replied.
He was glad of the opportunity of seeing the Indians engaged in their
pursuits in a natural manner, unconscious of the fact that they were
being observed.
“We’ll be all right so long as they don’t see us. We have to keep
absolutely still.”
“Suppose they look in here through the hole by which we came in? Let’s
close it!” David suggested.
“Yes,” Miguel agreed. “We must close it or one of them might happen to
glance in.”
They pulled the thorn-covered branches together, very slowly and
carefully, until the opening was completely blocked. They were now
secure from discovery so long as they remained quiet. As he thought of
this David also thought of the innumerable things that could happen to
call attention to their hiding-place. Suppose one of them had to cough
or sneeze; or what if a scorpion, tarantula or snake should creep in to
dispute their quarters with them? He dared not think further along these
lines.
The Indians had started a fire by rubbing together two sticks until they
glowed, then applying them to dry leaves and blowing the heap into a
blaze. Then they piled on wood and before long the roaring flames were
leaping high into the air. The carcass of the tapir had been hacked into
pieces; some of the chunks of meat were now thrown upon the fire to
roast.
“They belong to the Parintintin tribe,” Miguel said as he watched them.
“They are headhunters. They are the ones who attack the rubber camp at
times. But they haven’t bothered it lately, because they were beaten
badly in the last fight. But this may be a war party going there again.”
“What made Dom Carlos tell Rice, then, that the Indians were killing all
the men?” David asked quickly.
Miguel looked confused for a moment. “He, he--meant others, not these,”
he stammered.
David gave him a sharp look.
“Oh, I see,” he said and resumed watching the antics of the mob before
him.
“Here is our chance to get more arrows,” David said suddenly. Several of
the savages had placed their weapons in the ground beside their place of
concealment. “Do you need any more?”
“No!” Miguel was horror-stricken. “Don’t touch them. They would miss
them and then find us.”
“Well, I won’t take any, then, but I’m going to have some fun. Wait
until it’s dark,” David whispered with a chuckle.
By the time night had fallen some of the meat had been charred to the
desired degree and the Indians raked it out with long poles; after it
had cooled somewhat they tore off strips and began to eat. So soon as
one chunk was taken from the embers a new one was thrown into them. And
all the time individuals were coming and going, collecting fuel or
engaged in other enterprises.
The scene was a weird yet fascinating one. The lithe savages, outlined
against the glare of the fire; the flickering light playing on their
bare skin; the dark tree-trunks; and beyond all this the inky blackness
of night, made a picture never to be forgotten. It was one of those
things suggested by the sombre, mysterious, silent jungle when viewed
from the open reaches of a great river, but which was forever veiled to
those who lacked the trepidity to penetrate into its depths.
The two dared not leave their cover for fear of running into some of the
prowling savages. But when it seemed that all of them were busily
engaged in consuming as much of the charred meat as possible David
worked his way carefully to the edge of the barrier and reaching through
it removed two arrows from one of the clusters and placed them in
another one; then he took two from the latter one and inserted them in
the first group to replace the ones he had taken away. Miguel was badly
frightened at this action and tried to prevent it.
“I want to see what will happen when they discover the exchange,” David
whispered. “It can’t do any harm.”
Scarcely had he crawled back to the center of the bamboo screen when
pandemonium broke loose around the fire.
The group had just been joined by one of the tribesmen, who rushed into
the circle of light, talking and gesticulating wildly.
“I told you; I told you not to do it,” Miguel gasped in terror. “He saw
you and he’s telling them about it.”
“Look!” David, too, was trembling. The speaker was pointing their way
and the others were looking in their direction, as if trying to pierce
the blackness with their eyes.
In a moment every man was on his feet and rushing toward his bow and
arrows.
The fire and the food were forgotten. The clamor of voices was stilled.
Only one thought was uppermost in the mind of each Indian and that was
to get hold of his weapons before the passing of another second.
CHAPTER XVI
THE BATTLE IN THE JUNGLE
The thing that had happened to end the feast of the Parintintins so
abruptly was that a scout, of which each party always kept numbers on
its outskirts, had rushed into their midst with news of a startling
character. He had discovered the approach of a war party of another
tribe which doubtless had been dogging their steps all day long and were
now forming for the attack.
Warfare among the tribes of the Amazon is as unceasing as it is
merciless. Each, in attempts to extend the boundaries of its territory
or hunting-grounds, looks with suspicion and resentment upon its
neighbors and by every means known to it tries to exterminate, or at
least reduce in numbers the populace around it, thereby increasing its
own measure of safety as well as its food supply.
It may, or it may not have been fortunate for the two cowering in the
clump of thorny bamboo that the attack came when it did, for in the
intense excitement that prevailed those of the savages who had time,
flew to their arms and gathered them up in one swoop; so the interchange
was not noticed. Then the dusky forms darted into the darkness that
surrounded the firelight like an impenetrable wall.
But before the last one had disappeared from view there burst upon the
silent night a chorus of cries and screams accompanied by the deep beats
of drums; and at the same instant a deluge of arrows hissed and whined
through the air in pursuit of the fleeing figures.
The arrows rattled about the clump of bamboo in which the two men were
hiding. Soon after, a line of howling savages charged out of the
darkness, flitted through the lighted area and disappeared again in the
gloom on the other side of the fire.
David drew his revolver and held it ready for action, for the first time
since Miguel had found him. He had saved the few precious cartridges he
possessed for the time when it might be necessary to defend their lives
and that time, he thought, had arrived. But the swarm of Indians swept
past them all unaware of their presence. How the savages could see in
the darkness was beyond his ability to explain; but see they did, or
otherwise they soon should have killed themselves by colliding with the
trees and many other obstructions in the forest.
The pursuit continued far beyond, as was evidenced by the shouts that
grew constantly fainter and then died in the distance. The Parintintins
had been routed completely and many of them had probably perished in the
unexpected assault; the survivors, doubtless, were scattered hopelessly
and were either in hiding or fleeing for their lives.
“We’d better get away from here,” David whispered, “but they went right
in the direction we want to go.”
“Don’t be in too big a hurry,” Miguel admonished him. “The forest is
full of Indians. I know them. There are some of them right around us
here. We can’t leave until we’re sure all have gone.”
The wisdom of his words was demonstrated a moment later, when a shadowy
form flitted out of the night and made for one of the clusters of arrows
that had been deserted when the charge came. He had hardly reached the
spot when there came the snarl of an arrow, followed by a dull thud, and
the Indian pitched headlong to the ground.
It was as Miguel had said. Unseen eyes were watching the fire in
anticipation of the return of some of the routed savages for their
effects. But greatly to the relief of the onlookers, no others came.
After an hour’s nerve-racking silence the crackling of twigs told of the
return of the victorious party and presently the vanguard, in small
groups, came into view. They were talking and gesticulating wildly; then
half a dozen others who had acted as sentinels around the fire joined
them. Soon more came until there must have been over a hundred.
They piled wood on the fire until they had a blaze roaring toward the
tree tops, while a train of sparks, like miniature comets, soared high
above the forest. That served as a signal to announce victory, and after
a short time a group of women and children appeared out of the jungle
and joined the warriors. The women carried baskets on their backs; they
were filled with calabashes, and packages wrapped in green leaves.
When all had arrived the celebration of the victory began. The remainder
of the tapir was placed in the fire to roast; bundles were unwrapped,
revealing quantities of fish, Brazil nuts, cassava bread and corn.
The women took full charge of preparing the food, the men spending the
time in animated conversation and argument.
When the meat was roasted they all sat around the fire and ate. Water
had been brought in some of the calabashes from which they frequently
took long drinks.
The two watchers began to think that the eating would last all night
when one of the Indians sprang to his feet and began to gesticulate with
his arms. He went through the performance of pursuing and slaying an
enemy in such a graphic way that they could not fail to understand his
meaning. When he finished another jumped up and went through a similar
pantomime; and after him, another and then another until each of the
warriors had demonstrated just how he had dealt with at least one
Parintintin.
David felt that if the Indians were telling the truth it had gone hard
indeed with the pursued; but he suspected that most of the versions were
given merely for the dramatic effect, because the victors outnumbered
the vanquished two to one.
When the last speaker had finished the men started a dance around the
fire, while the women and children withdrew into the background to
watch. Some of the dancers picked up empty calabashes and beat them like
drums. All of them shouted at the top of their voices as they leaped
about the blaze, the ruddy light reflected in flickering patches on
their bare, brown bodies.
Day was breaking when the assemblage gradually broke up into small
groups that lay down on the ground to sleep. Only two of the men
remained awake near the now rapidly dying fire, apparently for the
purpose of warning the sleepers if there should be a surprise attack.
David and Miguel were in an unenviable predicament. Their limbs ached
from long remaining in their cramped quarters in the bamboo clump. They
could not move about and they dared not go to sleep. The faintest
rustling noise, the slightest movement might arouse the Indians and
cause an investigation. And they knew what discovery would mean.
It was noon when the first of the sleepers began to stir and within a
few minutes the whole party was moving about. Their actions were now in
great contrast to those of the early morning. They seemed in a hurry to
get away.
The men collected their bows and arrows and the women packed the
remnants of food and the calabashes into their baskets. Then the whole
party vanished in the forest, heading in the direction in which the
Parintintins had fled.
“I thought they were going to stay forever.” David sighed with relief.
“Now I can stretch my legs. I’m asleep all over, except my head.”
“Roll over a few times,” Miguel advised, “and you’ll feel better.”
They both did this for a few moments and then crawled out into the open.
Once on their feet, they lost no time in leaving the locality.
After walking rapidly for an hour, Miguel, who was in the lead, stopped
suddenly.
“Listen,” he said, raising one hand.
David stopped and listened intently.
“I hear a faint noise, like a breeze in the tree-tops,” he said.
“Yes. That’s it. But it’s not wind, it’s water.”
“Yes, it is water. I can hear it better now. It must be a big river.”
“With a high fall in it. Only a great waterfall could make such a
noise.”
“What will we do?” David asked.
“Go to it. It’s just what we want. We’ll make a raft and drift down with
the current.” Miguel’s dark face lighted up with enthusiasm. “It will be
easier than having to walk.”
“First, let’s eat. I’m almost starved,” David suggested.
“Me, too. But I’m afraid to start a fire. Better wait until we get to
the river,” Miguel said apprehensively. “There can’t be too much
distance between the Indians and us to suit me.”
They tramped on. David was now trailbreaker. They took turns at this for
the vegetation was growing heavier constantly and the leader had to use
his knife frequently to cut through the sprouts and creepers that
disputed their way.
It was after cutting a path through one of the thickets that David
caught sight of some living creature disappearing among the dense
growth. He did not know what it was, for the glimpse had been a fleeting
one, so he stopped to tell Miguel, but before he had finished the
sentence an arrow tore its way through the leaves a few inches on one
side of them.
They needed no further proof to tell them that the vanishing form had
been that of an Indian. Dashing back over their trail they fled in a
wide detour of the spot and then advanced more cautiously. There was no
question but that the savage would take up the pursuit. And a long,
quavering note like that of a forest dove that reached their ears was a
signal to other Indians who must be in the neighborhood.
A second call, low and plaintive, came in answer to the first. It was
directly in front of them. They dropped into the shadow between two
buttressed roots of a giant tree just in time to see two nude savages
appear and make their way stealthily toward the spot from which the
first one had signalled.
“The forest is full of Indians,” Miguel whispered when they had
disappeared. “They are calling one another for a discussion. Then they
will try to catch us.”
“Let’s go, then. The bigger the start we have the harder it will be for
them to find us,” David panted. “If we stay here they’re sure to catch
us.”
“The river! The river!” Miguel whispered. “We must get to the river.
Come on.”
They darted away at a rapid pace, making toward the roaring sound that
was rapidly growing louder. The going was terrible. Instead of stopping
to use the knife in clearing a path as before, they crashed through the
dense clumps of dwarf bamboo, matted ferns and thick sprouts. The sharp
thorns covering some of the growths slashed their clothing into ribbons
and tore into their flesh; and more than once they fell to the ground
when creepers, like steel wires, encircled their feet and tripped them.
The cooing voices of the Indians were not far behind them. Occasionally
they heard the breaking of branches and the swishing of the leaves where
the pursuing savages fought their way through the jungle. It was
fortunate that the vegetation was so dense that they could not be seen
and thus afford easy targets for the arrows of the forest men.
“It can’t be far now,” Miguel said encouragingly. The roar of the water
had become so loud that he was compelled to shout to make himself heard.
David was too breathless from his exertions to talk, so he nodded his
head in assent. They could not hear their pursuers now, but there was no
doubt about their being hot on the trail, which they would not leave
until the fugitives had been overtaken.
At last the two fought their way through the last living wall of green
and stood on the brink of the river. They were a sorry sight, bleeding
from numerous cuts and bruises, their clothing in shreds, and on the
point of exhaustion.
Before them lay a deep gorge through which the river, of considerable
size, rushed over a bed littered with huge boulders. There was no
crossing the stream; even a boat would have been short-lived in the
maelstrom that hissed and boiled a hundred feet below them.
They took in the situation at a glance, and it seemed as if they were in
a worse dilemma than before. The Indians were approaching on one side,
cutting off retreat, and the river prevented further flight in that
direction.
There was no time to ponder the situation. Miguel peered over the
embankment. Then, beckoning to David to follow, he slid over the edge,
held to it for a moment and let go.
David looked down just in time to see his companion stop against a flat
rock twenty feet below and in a moment he had landed by his side. Then
followed a second drop into a clump of bushes; it was higher than the
first but the springy boughs broke the force of the fall.
The remainder of the descent was easier. There was a slant to the wall
down which they slid to the rocks on the very edge of the water.
A hasty survey of the situation showed that the sides of the gorge
up-stream were the more precipitous; and the pathway on the margin of
the seething flood was safer, so they started in that direction,
clambering over the slippery boulders where a misstep meant a plunge
into the water below. What they sought was a place where it would be
impossible to be seen from above, and when this had been attained they
stopped to rest.
Ahead of them was the marvellous spectacle of a cataract dashing over a
series of steplike rocks and ending in a sheer fall ten feet or more in
height.
The prospect was discouraging in spite of momentary safety. If they
should turn downstream they would become easy marks for the Indians, who
must have reached the brink of the gorge by that time; up-stream was the
wall of roaring water, but toward it they went.
“Come,” David shouted to Miguel, who was close at his heels. “I want to
see the falls and--and--what’s under them.”
Miguel did not understand the meaning of the words but when they were
abreast of the curtain of water he saw the facts at a glance.
The falling body of crystal liquid did not, of course, hug closely the
stone wall over which it rushed. The momentum of the water was so great
that it carried it clear of the ledge a distance of several feet. It was
just as David had expected, provided----
He crawled close to the edge of the fall and then gave a shout that
Miguel heard even above the rumble that was all but deafening.
At the base of any cataract one may find either of two things: a deep
pool of whirling water or a mass of shattered rock fragments that has
broken off the ledge above and lodged against the base of the wall. The
latter is what David hoped to find and it is what he found.
A ridge of splintered rock stretched from the edge of the water into the
mist so far under the fall as they could see. If it continued,
unbroken, to the other side, it would afford a means of crossing the
stream.
David ventured gingerly onto the jagged pathway. The stones were cold
and wet and he had to crawl on hands and knees as there was not headroom
to stand. So soon as he was well under way Miguel followed.
It was a terrifying experience, justified only by a desperate situation.
The sheet of clear water, streaked with green, shot over the crouching
men with a thunderous roar, intensified by the cavity in which they
found themselves. A cold mist saturated their ragged clothing and
chilled them through; also, the vapor soon shut off their view in the
direction from which they had come, enveloping them in a clammy fog that
shut out the daylight. Swallows left their nests that had been plastered
against the face of the wall and dashed away in the gloom with
frightened twitters. Below, the water raged and boiled and tongues
crested with foam leaped angrily toward the men as if trying to drag
them into the cauldron below.
Once David faltered; it seemed he could go no farther. But there was
Miguel in back of him. He could not retreat and in so doing display a
lack of courage before his companion. Hope for them lay in one direction
only and that was straight ahead, even if at the same time it seemed to
promise certain disaster.
After what seemed like ages the gray twilight in front of them
brightened and a strong wind fanned the face of the foremost man. The
end of the perilous journey was in sight. And soon they had emerged
from under the river and stood on the rocks that flanked the side,
drenched, cold and shivering.
“Thank heaven, we got through that all right,” David said between
chattering teeth. “Do you think the Indians will follow?”
“They would if they knew where we went. We have to keep out of sight,”
Miguel replied. “But they wouldn’t come under the fall; they would go
downstream and cross.”
The two were compelled to remain in their present position until
darkness came, screened from view of those on the other side by the
clouds of mist that rose from the fall. They had an occasional glimpse,
however, of the high bluff across the stream; it was dotted with the
nude, brown forms of the savages, boldly outlined against the deep green
vegetation.
They selected a route that appeared climbable and when darkness had
fallen, clambered to the top. From this position directly across the
gorge they saw waving, flickering lights like huge fireflies weaving in
and out among the trees far up and down the river; the Indians had
lighted torches. They were mystified by the disappearance of the white
men. But the search was still on and there was not the slightest
indication that they had any intention of abandoning it.
CHAPTER XVII
THE TERROR OF THE ISLAND
David and Miguel spent the night in the thick growth into which they had
fought their way upon the coming of darkness. Their narrow escape from
the savages; the long vigil in the bamboo clump; the day and two nights
without food; and the uncertainty of their present plight, all combined
to bring about a state of exhaustion that should have induced sleep so
soon as they became convinced that the pursuit was not likely to extend
to their side of the river.
Sleep, however, did not come. The night was cold; it was the first
warning of the coming change of seasons and the two men were numb long
before the sun rose to dispel the chill gloom that had enveloped them.
Daylight showed their surroundings to be not materially different from
the ones they had just left on the other side of the river. There were
the same kinds of trees, the same matted, thorny undergrowth; but the
tangle was even denser--more nearly impenetrable.
“Let’s start a fire,” David said, shaking and trembling with the cold.
“No,” Miguel answered. His teeth, too, were rattling. “Not here, on
account of the smoke; the Indians would see it.”
“Indians or no Indians, I’m freezing,” David protested.
“We’ll start walking right away. That will warm us up. The sun is coming
up, too. Soon it will be hot.”
They began to battle their way through the thickets and before long were
perspiring from their exertions. The growth was generally so difficult
to penetrate that they made slow progress.
In one of the more open places they came upon a pair of large forest
partridges; they were nearly the size of hens. Also they were stupid
birds, and after Miguel had shot one of them the other remained looking
at the men in curiosity, until a second arrow added it to their bag.
“We ought to be far below the fall now,” David suggested. “Let’s go to
the water; it might be easier walking. We can look across first to see
if the Indians have come down this far.”
Miguel offered no objection, so they made their way to the edge of the
stream. They waited in hiding for some time but saw no sign of the
savages. Far up the river, however, a cloud of smoke was ascending high
above the treetops. The brown men of the forest had started fires in the
hope of driving them out of their place of concealment.
“It’s all right,” Miguel said, gazing intently at the smoke. “They’re
still over there looking for us. They think we climbed a tree and are
trying to smoke us out. We can go on.”
The abrupt walls of the gorge on their side of the river were breaking
down rapidly; on the other side they still towered high above the
turbulent water.
Stone and sand terraces replaced the thick jungle from which they had
just emerged. But the thing that puzzled them was that the land seemed
to end in a point just ahead. There appeared to be water in front and on
both sides of them.
Each looked at the other in silent apprehension, but not a word was
spoken. They hastened down the open strip of land to its termination and
then their fears were verified.
A roaring rapid surged past on each side and met in front to form one
broad, even more treacherous stream that sped away below. They were on
an island. With this realization came also the knowledge that there was
no escape from their present position, for no raft could long survive in
the maelstrom that surrounded them.
They could return to the mainland, it is true, by way of the precarious
path under the fall; but there were the Indians to be considered, who
would not give up the search for days, perhaps, even knowing where the
fugitives had gone and fully aware of the fact that they had to come
back the same way or remain marooned on the island.
“Let’s cook the birds and eat,” David suggested. “I’m almost starved.”
“The same here,” Miguel assented. “Then we’ll sleep. I can’t think now.
Nothing we can do will make the fix we’re in any worse. So let’s eat and
sleep. Tomorrow is another day.”
And when the sun was high in the heavens on the following day they awoke
much refreshed. They followed the riverbank, going up-stream on the far
side of the island, for it had occurred to them that they might not be
stranded after all. The channel they had discovered was perhaps another
river instead of a branch of the one they had crossed.
They walked close to the bank, for there the ground was open. When they
had gone less than a mile, farther progress was blocked; they had
reached the head of what was, after all, an island.
“It _is_ an island, all right,” David said. “See where the stream
divides and one side is as bad as the other.”
“We have to get off somehow,” Miguel returned, “because we can’t use a
raft in that water. We have to reach the mainland and then walk down
below the rapids. But how are we going to do it?”
“I’ll tell you,” David proposed; “how about crossing under the fall at
night and slipping down the gorge. We can travel after dark and hide in
the daytime until we’re too far away for the Indians to follow.”
Miguel, while not enthusiastic over the plan, could offer no other to
take its place, so they made their way to the other side to have a good
view of the lay of the land and to form their plans accordingly.
There were now no Indians in sight on the opposite bank, nor were there
any signs of their presence. Therefore, they clambered down the side of
the bluff to the edge of the waterfall.
The water had fallen a great deal since they had come across. Instead of
the thick stream shooting far out over the ledge, there was now a
greatly reduced volume, so that it fell in a cascade that closely hugged
the rock wall. The passage underneath the fall was closed. Their one
avenue of escape to the mainland was blocked.
“There’s only one thing to do,” Miguel said in disgust, “and that is to
make ourselves as comfortable as possible until we can think of some way
to get off the island or until something unexpected happens.”
David agreed that there was no other course to pursue, and the lower end
of the island being the more open, they decided to make camp there. They
cleared a small space in the edge of the jungle, cut four saplings for
corner-posts and built a rather substantial shelter, covered with a
layer of palm-leaves on top and on all four sides, leaving only one
opening for a doorway. Bunks were arranged along the walls and a
fireplace built in front, of stones brought up from the riverbank.
The domicile was designedly of sturdy construction for they did not know
how long they would be compelled to occupy it.
Then followed two days devoted to a thorough exploration of the island.
It was small, not over three-quarters of a mile long, and less than a
third as wide. Birds of many species were abundant and there was no
difficulty in procuring all the meat that was needed. But there were no
mammals of any size; if there had been monkeys in the tree-tops, or
deer, tapirs or peccaries in the forest they soon should have found
them, or at least seen traces of their presence. The turbulent character
of the water surrounding them accounted for this. The birds, of course,
could fly across, but no mammal could swim across the barrier of
agitated water.
On the second night after they had built the hut, David awoke with a
start. The awakening was so sudden that he felt there must be a reason
for it, although there was not a sound upon the still, cool air.
However, a disagreeable odor filled the room. He lay quietly for some
minutes with the uncanny feeling that he was being watched by some
living creature and that, too, from no great distance.
David knew that the best policy under such circumstances, was to remain
perfectly motionless. A sudden move might invite attack.
As he waited, wondering what could be the cause of his presentiment,
Miguel suddenly sat up.
“I can’t stand it any longer,” he cried. “There’s----”
The sentence remained unfinished. His words were drowned by a rustling,
creaking noise and the hut shook as if about to collapse. A moment later
they heard the sound of a heavy body rushing away through the jungle.
“Good heavens,” David exclaimed in consternation. “What can it be? There
are no animals on the island. Let’s start a fire.”
Miguel was so frightened he could hardly move.
“I don’t know,” he whispered, “unless it is the evil one himself.”
“It was something a lot more real than that. But what?” David replied.
They started a fire and remained near it the remainder of the night,
discussing their strange visitor, but reaching no conclusion as to what
it could have been.
Daylight revealed the fact that their shelter had been badly battered.
They searched the ground for foot-prints but found none. There was not
the slightest clue to give any intimation of the solution of the
mystery.
After a hasty breakfast, they started on a systematic search of the
island, cutting a number of straight trails across from one side to the
other, but still they found not the least sign of the presence of an
animal of any kind. However, Miguel did discover a species of palm, the
large terminal bud of which was delicious eaten raw, and another kind of
the same trees which gave quantities of white sap or milk of fine
flavor; they had only to tap it in the fashion of a rubber tree. These
two articles were a most welcome addition to their food supply of meat
that had begun to pall. Also, they provided the vegetable matter so
necessary to their well-being.
That night the men took turns in watching throughout the hours of
darkness, but the nocturnal prowler did not return. They supposed,
therefore, that they had frightened the creature away, whatever it
could have been, and this thought afforded them a measure of relief.
“I’ll tell you what we could do,” David said the following morning. “We
could get material together for a raft and start to build it. It will
keep us occupied and perhaps we can make one strong enough to run the
rapids without breaking apart.”
Miguel shook his head. “Impossible,” he said. “No raft or boat of any
kind could do it. Look at the rocks; look at the whirlpools; look at the
swift current. There might even be more falls below. But we can make one
anyway. It will keep us busy, and--say, I just thought of something. In
the rainy season, when the water is high, there won’t be any rapids, or
at least they will be only very mild, and we could use the raft then.”
David could have shouted for joy. Now that Miguel had mentioned it, he,
too, realized that higher water would cover the rocks and obliterate the
narrow, angry channels between them as well as blot out the whirlpools.
They lost no time in starting to collect material for their craft.
First, they selected a clump of tall, feathery bamboo near the water’s
edge and began to cut down the stems. Each pole was upward of forty feet
long and six inches thick; and, as the joints of which they were
composed were filled with water, they had to tap each one to permit the
liquid to drain; otherwise they would be too heavy to float. The
afternoon was half over when they began the latter task.
“How about getting something for supper?” David asked. “This job makes
me feel as if I could eat a dozen partridges.”
“And me,” Miguel agreed, “and a few palm buds and a _liter_ of milk,
too.”
The two started away, stealthily following one of the narrow trails they
had made and had no difficulty in securing a number of the stupid
tinamou that were so plentiful. To collect the palm buds and milk
required a greater length of time, and darkness had fallen when they
retraced their steps to camp. However, a full moon, high in the heavens,
sent soft shafts of light through the branches overhead, where the
jungle was less dense; and when they reached the edge of the forest
where their camp was located, a flood of silvery moonlight met their
eyes.
“Santo Paulo! Our house is gone!” It was Miguel’s voice, filled with
consternation. He was in the lead and had stopped suddenly, hands raised
in horror at the unexpected sight.
“Gone?” David pushed forward, incredulous that such a thing could have
happened. “It can’t be gone because there was no wind to blow it away.”
“But it _is_ gone. Look! Where is it?” Miguel was still standing where
he had stopped.
“We must be in the wrong place, but, no, this is the spot.” David was
puzzled. He approached cautiously.
“It’s been broken down to the ground,” he exclaimed. “Somebody or
something has been here while we were away.”
They dared not advance into the clearing where the shelter had stood
because there was the possibility that their marauding visitor was in
the neighborhood, awaiting their return. But from their position they
could see that the structure had been crushed to the earth and
completely wrecked, as if by men or some gigantic animal.
After watching a while they returned to the heavier forest to spend the
night.
“I told you it was a spirit,” Miguel insisted, “when it visited us that
first night. Now do you believe it?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Then what is it?”
“I don’t know, but we’ll find out.”
They rebuilt the hut on the same spot. The island was so small that one
place was as good as another and the old location possessed the
advantage of having been cleared of underbrush.
The remainder of the day had been spent collecting material for the
raft. After the water had drained out of the bamboo poles the holes had
to be sealed with gum taken from trees. After that the light, buoyant
stems had to be fastened together to form the raft and having no nails
it was necessary to tie them together. Only one material was available
for the purpose and that was bark.
They gathered armfuls of the long, shaggy fiber that hung like a fringe
from the trunks of the _chiqui-chiqui_ palms and placed them in a heap
near the hut. By the time sufficient of the material had been collected
it was too late to begin braiding it into ropes.
After a supper of the usual fare the two concealed themselves in the
edge of the forest to watch for the possible return of their unwelcome
visitor.
Hour after hour passed, but there was no disturbance of any kind. It was
evident that they were not to be molested that night, so they returned
to the shelter.
No sooner had Miguel entered the doorway than he gave a shriek and
darted out again. He staggered a few steps and fell headlong to the
ground.
David picked up the limp form of his companion and carried it toward the
open beach, but the man recovered and struggled to his feet.
“Oh!” he gasped. “It’s in there now. It almost got me.”
David tried to find out what it was Miguel had seen, but the latter
talked incoherently so that it was impossible to make out the meaning of
his words. He thought that his companion was greatly exaggerating the
truth; perhaps he had seen nothing at all and had merely imagined the
presence of some weird being conjured by his superstitious mind. He
would decide the matter by going to see for himself. To strengthen the
latter conclusion, nothing had come out of the hut and there was no
sound within.
David drew his revolver and held it in readiness for instant action.
Then he lighted a bunch of the palm fiber and holding it aloft, went
slowly toward the structure.
When he reached the doorway he thrust the flaming torch in first and
raised it above his head. The glare lighted up the interior of the
small room, but for a moment only.
David stood paralyzed in his tracks when he saw the thing that had
invaded their domicile. From the center of the palm-leaf thatch that
formed the ceiling and drooping almost to the ground were the head and
part of the body of an enormous snake. It hung suspended in space, as
motionless as if carved out of variegated marble. As he looked in
horror, the great reptile raised its massive head slowly, at the same
time drawing it back like a bent spring, as if to strike. Its beady eyes
were fixed on those of the man and the forked tongue moved rapidly in
and out of its mouth. As it did this it emitted a long hiss that sounded
like a jet of escaping steam.
David recovered his senses in a flash. He would have to act quickly. If
the reptile’s head shot forward it would knock him down like the blow of
a battering ram.
Without moving the flaming torch, he raised his right hand slowly and
took careful aim at the great head not two yards away, his finger
tightening on the trigger until the slightest further pressure would
cause its release. Then came a flash and a deafening crack. He dropped
the blazing fagot and ran out upon the open bank where Miguel was
sitting, still too dazed for speech.
When he stopped he became aware of a thrashing noise, coming from the
direction of the hut; then the entire structure fell with a crash--on
top of the bunch of palm fiber now flickering its last.
Soon little tongues of fire leaped up, lapping eagerly at the dry leaves
of which their shelter had been composed. In a moment the entire heap
was a mass of flames that lighted up the scene as bright as day. And in
the midst of the conflagration he saw the writhing, lashing coils of the
giant serpent that did not cease their movements, even after the fire
had died down to a pile of feebly glowing embers.
CHAPTER XVIII
WHEN THE WATER RAN HIGH
The two men had watched the burning of their hut until the last
flickering blaze had died; Miguel as in a trance, and David spellbound
by the sight. The loss of their abode, while causing them some
inconvenience, was not a calamity, for they easily could build another.
The visits of the great snake, however, was another matter.
“The _sucurujú_ never lives alone,” Miguel said finally when he had
recovered from the shock of his experience. They were watching the huge
coils writhe in the glowing embers.
“What do you mean?” David asked.
“There are always a pair together. When one goes out and remains away
any length of time the other one goes to look for it. And if you kill
one of them, the other will follow you until it has avenged its mate.”
“Then you think there is another snake around here?”
“Yes,” Miguel said. “We had better not stay at this end of the island
tonight.”
“The thing that puzzles me, is where did this monster come from?” David
said. “I can understand now why the creature that visited our hut did
not leave tracks, but I don’t see how we could have overlooked it in
walking about the island. It is so big we couldn’t have missed it unless
it lived in a cave, and--there are no caves.”
“Anacondas live in holes in the riverbank,” Miguel explained. “That’s
why we didn’t see this one. It came up from the water while we were
watching in the forest. And the other is liable to be along any minute,
so we had better go.”
Early the next morning they went back to the ruins of their hut to
inspect the snake. They found it, a mound of shimmering color, near the
pile of ashes and it was, of course, dead. David’s shot had struck it
fairly in the head. It was of a greenish brown color with small black
spots and mottlings on its back. When, after a good deal of tugging they
succeeded in straightening it on the ground and paced the distance from
head to tail, they found that it was in the neighborhood of thirty-two
feet long. The weight, they estimated, was not less than three hundred
pounds, for it had a girth of over two feet in the thickest part of its
body and was very heavy.
“I wish we could save the skin,” David said, regretfully, “but we can’t
cure it and it’s too cumbersome to carry.”
Miguel tried to lessen his disappointment. “It’s all scorched and burned
anyway. I’m glad it didn’t get us; it could have crushed us into jelly
in a moment.”
“What about the other one?” David asked.
The Brazilian looked around uneasily.
“Let’s get busy on the raft,” he said. “One snake is enough for me. We
might not be so lucky another time.”
It required two more days to complete the raft. They rolled and pushed
the bamboo poles to the very edge of the water and then began the work
of constructing their craft. First they spread a layer of the bamboos on
the ground; then they bound them together securely with the fiber rope,
weaving the cables back and forth, until they had what resembled a huge
mat. Upon this they placed a second layer across the first and fastened
it into place. A third was carefully tied on top of this and after that
a fourth.
The raft was two feet thick when it was finished. It had a length of
twenty feet and a width of eight; they felt sure that it was ample to
carry their weight without submerging to the level of the water. When it
was finished they cut stout poles and using them as levers, pried it
into the stream, and tied it with one of the ropes.
“The water is rising,” Miguel announced joyfully. “If it keeps up until
morning we can start.”
David looked down the angry stretch in front of them. Many of the rocks
that had protruded above the surface were now submerged. Patches of
rolling, oily-looking water marked the spots where they were concealed.
On a whole, the river was still a swirling, roaring flood that only the
direst necessity could induce anyone to navigate. But there must be no
hesitation, no delay. A single day lost might mean the falling of the
water and the restoration of the cataracts to their former fury.
These thoughts came to both men as they surveyed the craft upon the
behavior of which their lives depended, and then gazed at the stream to
whose whims they would be exposed before the passing of many hours. And
the same thoughts recurred to them more forcibly the next morning, when
they hastened to the water’s edge with a feeling of eagerness tempered
with many misgivings. The raft was gone.
The men looked at one another in dismay; and also at the raging, hissing
river that seemed to mock them in their misfortune.
“It’s awful,” David said at last. “The rope snapped and the raft is
lost.”
Miguel sat down on the sand and covered his face with his hands.
“It was our last chance.” He was almost sobbing. “And now that’s gone.”
David, too, was far from cheerful. Their hopes had been dashed to
pieces; their enthusiasm had been killed; their work had been for
nothing. Once again fate, in the guise of the merciless river, had
conspired against them. The strain under which they had labored began to
make itself felt. They could endure but so much and the limit was in
sight.
“Say, this will never do.” The speaker was David. He had regained
mastery over himself. “Our chance is as good as it ever was. We can make
another raft. Maybe it’s a good thing this one broke away. We must make
the ropes stronger. It is a warning to us.”
Miguel looked up, and, encouraged, David continued in a cheerful manner.
“It won’t take so long this time either, because we know how to go about
it. And listen, the water may continue to rise and then the going will
be better than ever.”
“It may fall, too,” Miguel ventured half-heartedly.
“Of course. If it does, we’ll just have to wait. It will _have_ to rise
again sometime. There’s enough to eat here, so why should we worry?”
It was three days later that the second raft was ready. This time they
did not launch it until the morning of the start. The water had fallen
somewhat but after a thorough discussion of the matter, they decided to
chance the passage through the rapids. They loaded their small stock of
meat and palm buds, tied the packages down securely, stepped aboard the
floating platform and pushed away from the bank.
The raft drifted slowly and steadily toward the center of the stream.
Then the currents, coming from each side, caught it, carrying it along
at a rapidly increasing rate of speed until they were flying along at a
terrific pace.
So far the water had been fairly smooth though swift. But ahead of them
was a ruffled stretch, the surface dotted with rocks that showed a few
inches of their height while the angry waves and back-washes told of
other, invisible obstructions of a still more formidable nature.
The raft began to lurch so violently that its two occupants lost their
footing and fell flat on the ribbed surface. There they clung while the
floating platform spun and tossed madly at the mercy of the flood, for
the two men were now powerless to steady it with the long poles they had
carried for that purpose. Grating noises told them when they scraped
over partly submerged obstacles and there was an occasional shock and
sudden halt when they collided with rocks. But the current always swung
the raft to one side and swept it away in its thundering embrace.
The two men, hanging on for their lives, could not speak to one another
because the roar of the water drowned the sound of their voices. Showers
of spray dashed over them as they plunged down the terraces of cascades,
but the raft always bobbed up again after the leaps and its laminated
construction made it staunch enough to withstand the frightful strain to
which it was subjected.
After a half hour’s race down the agitated stream the water became
calmer and the current slackened. The raft now drifted lazily on the
broad expanse and the men regained their feet, glad of the relief
afforded them from their strained position. The poles they had used were
gone.
“We had better land and cut new ones,” Miguel said, calling attention to
their loss. “Without them we’ll simply drift along and not get
anywhere.”
David agreed that this was the proper thing to do. There was now but one
way to propel their craft; that was to lie flat and paddle with their
hands.
They soon found, however, that their efforts had little effect on the
large, cumbersome raft. It responded so feebly that the result was
barely noticeable. Then they both lay on the same side; this weighted
down the edge they were on while it raised the other side out of the
water. Their combined efforts, coupled with the position of the raft in
the water, caused it to swing slightly toward the bank.
It was mid-afternoon when they finally touched land; the men were nearly
exhausted. They pulled one end up on the shelving bank and tied it
securely. Then they sat down to eat and to rest.
“We are this far, anyway,” David commented. “It isn’t very far, I know,
but it’s a start and we’re away from the island. The raft behaved fine
in the rapids. It will stand anything.”
“Yes,” Miguel agreed, “but we don’t know if we are going in the right
direction. This river may never take us near camp.”
“All the rivers must find their way into the Amazon,” David insisted,
“so we can’t go wrong.”
“Then we can just drift along. Everything will be all right in the end.”
Miguel seemed filled with confidence.
His words carried a double meaning to David. He had done nothing but
drift--from one thing to another--into one difficulty after the other,
since reaching Brazil.
“Are you sure, Miguel,” he asked, “that everything will be all right in
the end?”
“Yes, it always is. But it often takes a long time.”
At this point the subject of the conversation was changed abruptly, for
appearing out of the forest on the other side of the river were a
number of Indians--the very ones, no doubt, from whom they had so
narrowly escaped.
The brown men were looking at them and waving their arms and the sound
of their voices could be heard plainly across the wide expanse of the
stream.
“They’re like wolves on the trail,” Miguel said. “They never give up.
But they can’t get to us now. They have no canoes and the river is too
broad to swim.”
“Then let’s wave back to them,” David said, standing up. He swung his
arms and shouted at the top of his voice. The Indians began to show
signs of excitement; they raced up and down the bank, jumped into the
air and called more loudly than before.
“I don’t like their actions. I can’t think of a thing they can do now,
but so soon as its dark we had better leave,” David suggested.
“You’re right,” Miguel agreed. “We can cut the poles now and get a few
extra ones to tie on the raft so we can have them handy if we lose the
ones we’re using.”
This task completed, they remained in hiding near the raft until after
the sun had set. And all the while the savages on the opposite bank, in
increasing numbers, continued their antics.
“Seems to me they could make a raft and come across,” said David, as
they watched. He could observe them through the screen of vegetation
behind which they were concealed.
“Some tribes never navigate the rivers. Others have canoes and seldom
travel by land. Then there are still others who travel overland and when
they reach a stream they want to cross, build a raft or make a wood-skin
canoe which they abandon or sink after it has been used.”
“I hope those over there belong to the kind that don’t venture on the
water,” David said.
“I think they do,” Miguel reassured him, “or they would have been over
here before now.”
They boarded their raft in the concealing darkness and pushed
downstream, remaining as near the bank as possible. As they drifted
along, slowly at first, they felt the impatient tug of the current
trying to hurry them toward the center of the stream.
“We could make better time if we went farther out,” Miguel said. “We are
barely moving here and I don’t like to be scraping against the branches
above.”
“Nor I,” David agreed.
They allowed the craft to follow the urge of the water and soon they
were moving at a fast rate. This pleased them, because it meant rapidly
increasing the distance between themselves and the savages they were
leaving behind.
When the moon rose they saw that the raft had been swept to the center
of the river. Use of the poles had been abandoned when the depth had
become too great for them to reach the bottom.
“We’ll be in camp before many days at this rate,” David said hopefully.
“See how fast we’re going?”
“Yes,” from Miguel, “but this is as fast as we ought to go. If the
current gets much swifter we’ll have to land.”
“Why?” David asked in surprise. “We can’t get back too soon to suit me.”
“Nor me. But there may be rapids ahead. We don’t know the river, so
can’t take too many chances at night. If it gets worse we’ll have to
wait until daylight so we can see first what we are to go through.”
David made no reply, at first.
“We could hear them,” he said finally.
It was not long after that that they heard the faint, warning noise that
meant trouble ahead. A muffled roar came to their ears; it rose and fell
in swells of sound like the vibrations of a bell. It was so far away,
however, they could scarcely hear it.
“You win, Miguel,” David said dejectedly.
“It’s always that way,” Miguel replied. “I win when I want to lose and I
lose when I want to win. Let’s make for the bank and stay close to it
until we reach the rapids.”
They dug the poles deep into the water and pushed with all their might.
The raft responded gently to their efforts, but they knew it would drift
downstream a great distance before reaching the bank.
Before they had gone very far they realized that the rapids must be
nearer than they had supposed for the roar was growing louder each
minute and seemed to come out of the night no great distance ahead.
Miguel was alarmed. “Faster,” he cried. “It’s just in front of us. We
have to make the bank or we’re lost.”
David shouted assent. He looked at the dark wall of trees still a good
hundred yards off. Then he bent to his task with more force than before.
In a few minutes it became obvious that their race was a doubtful one.
The water surged and boiled as it rushed along at frightful speed and
the raft began to lurch so that they could scarcely retain their
footing, while the roar that now came to their ears was of thunderous
volume.
“We can’t make it,” David shouted finally. He had just estimated the
span of angry water that still separated them from the land.
“What will we do?” Miguel called in return.
“It sounds too dangerous to attempt--at night. What do you say?” he
added as David made no reply.
“Wait!” David spoke quickly. “We can see a little way ahead and we can
both swim.”
Rocks of large size now loomed up in the riverbed. Around them the water
raged and hissed in fretful torrents. But still the men kept their
places, and inch by inch the raft drew toward the forested bank as it
raced in the grip of the flood.
David glanced up from time to time to appraise the water in front of
them; its character would, of course, determine their course of action.
“Quick,” he shouted suddenly, “that rock. Make for it for all you’re
worth,” pointing to a black mass that rose out of the seething water in
front of them, but ten yards to one side.
Miguel did not know why his companion had come to the sudden conclusion
that they should make for the rock; before, they had taken care to
avoid obstructions of this kind. But there was no time to ask questions.
He pulled with all the strength in his powerful frame in an effort to
carry out the instructions that had been given him.
The thing David had seen was a thin veil of mist rising into the moonlit
sky. That one glimpse had been enough, for it meant that there was a
waterfall below the haze. There was just time for the shout of warning
to Miguel; their only hope lay in gaining the rock.
They worked frantically, but soon it was apparent that the heavy raft
could not be swung sufficiently to make the goal in the distance that
separated them. Their position was desperate. They must gain the rock or
be swept over the fall that now boomed with the rumble of thunder.
Caught in the swirling eddies, the raft began to pitch and roll so
wildly they could no longer stay on their feet.
David grasped Miguel’s arm. The din made speech impossible. He pointed
down to the water, then to the rock. The Brazilian understood and
accepted the frightful challenge.
They sprang from the lurching platform and struck out boldly for the
rock. The swift current bore them along like chips on a millrace;
curling swells dashed over them and the roaring made their ears throb.
But there was no turning back, no other course to pursue, and side by
side they fought the treacherous torrent with powerful strokes.
The black mass loomed nearer and nearer; it was now but a few yards
ahead. And almost before they realized it they had been washed upon a
ledge and were crawling out of reach of the eager swell that rushed up
after them.
As they gained their feet, trembling from the chill of the water and the
effects of their terrifying experience, a dark object sped past the
rock, still a number of yards away. They followed it with their eyes. It
tossed and spun as it dashed down the river. They continued to watch it
in silence, facinated by the awful sight.
It was their raft. Suddenly it seemed to pitch forward, and then stand
on end; for a moment it hung suspended in space, the ragged ends of the
bamboos of which it was made clearly outlined like a black fringe
against the white curtain of mist. The bright moonlight lighted up the
scene so clearly that they missed no detail of it.
Then the raft, still on end, slid downward and was gone. It had plunged
over the brink of the fall.
“Oh!” It was Miguel. “Everything is lost. All our things were on it--my
bow and arrows and your gun, too.”
“Yes,” David returned mournfully. “Everything we had is gone. But we’re
all right, and that’s something to be thankful for.”
CHAPTER XIX
THE BROWN MEN OF THE JUNGLE
When daylight came, the two men cowering on the bare rock around which
the turbulent water raged, were more appalled than ever at the
realization of how narrowly they had escaped a terrible fate. The soft
moonlight had concealed much that the bright sunlight revealed.
All about them were roaring cascades, whirlpools and rapids of a
formidable character. Above, the stretch of water through which they had
swum was nearly as bad. It was well that the mellow light had been
deceptive, for it had hidden the real nature of the river and had made
it appear much calmer than it really was; if David and Miguel had been
able to see what was before them it is doubtful if they could have
reached the rock.
Below, and not more than fifty yards distant, the stream seemed to end
in a long, even line; it was the edge of the fall. They could not tell
how far the sheet of water dropped, but the roar that came up from below
sounded like booming thunder and the clouds of swirling mist rising high
into the sky indicated that the distance of the plunge must be great.
The rock upon which the men were stranded was only fifty feet from the
bank. Both were splendid swimmers. But one look at the narrow channel
separating them from the land was enough to convince them that they
could not cross to safety before being swept over the fall. To swim
against the current in an effort to head up-stream was impossible. Their
only hope had been to go with the water at the same time striking
obliquely toward the shore; but that, too, was plainly out of the
question.
They discussed their predicament in serious voices; but there was no way
out of the difficulty, so far as they could see.
“We might as well be in the middle of the Amazon as right here,” Miguel
said.
“I’d rather be in the middle of the ocean,” David replied. “Then a ship
would be liable to come along to pick us up. Here nobody will find us.”
“No, because no one would be foolish enough to try to navigate this
river as we did.”
“Suppose the Indians should come down this far?” David asked suddenly.
“What easy marks we would be!”
“Let them come,” Miguel returned gloomily. “It would be quicker than
drowning or starving.”
“Maybe so. But I’d like to have something to fight back with. We have
nothing. Even the revolver is gone.”
The thought of the Indians may have come to them as a premonition, for
the Indians did arrive not many hours after, and apparently they were
the same ones who had been following and attempting to capture them.
As they were gazing with longing at the green walls of forest that grew
down to the rocks bordering the water the thick curtain of foliage
parted revealing the brown form of a savage.
“My heavens,” Miguel moaned, “they _did_ find us. It’s all over now.”
“I’ve changed my mind,” David panted at about the same moment. “If they
start shooting at us I’ll jump in and go over the fall; they might not
be so high as we think and anyway, it’s a fighting chance. I won’t be
shot like a trapped animal.”
“I’ll go, too,” Miguel said quickly. “I won’t let them shoot me either.”
They perched on the very edge of the rock, ready to make the plunge.
“Before we go,” said Miguel, as a peculiar look came over his face, “I
want to tell you something; I tried to tell you before, but----”
“Not now,” David interrupted him. “There isn’t time and there’s too much
noise. And I don’t feel that our end is in sight. I think I suspect,
too, what you want to say.”
Miguel looked puzzled, but said no more.
Other savages joined the first on the bank, bows and arrows in their
hands, but still there was no show of hostility. They only stared and
chattered excitedly among themselves.
Then the group was joined by one who was apparently their chief. He
pushed boldly to the front and came out into full view on the rocks.
The newcomer towered a full head above the others and his powerful body
looked like a bronze statue against the green background. In one hand he
held a long bow, in the other, an arrow.
For a moment he stood motionless, looking steadily at the helpless men
on the rock. Then he glanced up and down the river as if assuring
himself that they could not escape.
David and Miguel, ready to jump, did not remove their eyes from him for
a moment. Their hearts were pounding wildly and their breath came in
gasps.
After surveying the situation a short time longer, the chief turned to
the savages in back of him and asked a question to which they replied
with shouts and many gestures. Then he turned and did a most surprising
thing.
Again facing toward the two white men, he looked at them intently for a
long time, then stooped and deliberately placed his bow on the rock on
which he stood. Next, he grasped the arrow in both hands, snapped the
shaft in two with a quick movement of his wrists and threw the pieces
into the river. After that he extended his arms at full length toward
David and Miguel.
This action startled the two so they nearly fell off the rock. They sat
down, limp and helpless after the terrific ordeal to which they had been
subjected.
“Does he mean it?” David asked weakly. “Isn’t it a scheme to capture us
alive?”
“No!” Miguel, too, could barely make himself heard. “An Indian never
goes back on his word. We are
[Illustration:
Again facing toward the ... white men ... he grasped the arrow in
both hands, snapped the shaft in two ... and threw the pieces into
the river.
]
safe so long as we do nothing to take advantage of him. I can hardly
believe what’s happened.”
The Indian was still waiting with outstretched arms. Noting this, Miguel
rose to his feet and held out his arms to the savage. Then David
followed his example. All the other Indians now came out of the forest
and held out their hands. Thus they stood a few seconds and the promise
of friendship was sealed on both sides.
The brown men now drew together for a consultation which lasted for some
time. When it was over their leader again turned and motioned to David
and Miguel to sit down; they complied with his request, after which the
Indians disappeared into the forest.
Several hours passed; they seemed like days to the two on the rock.
“I wonder what they are going to do!” David said over and over.
“I don’t know,” Miguel replied each time. “They have some scheme for
getting us off this place and have gone to see about it.”
At last the chief returned. He was excited and pointed up the river.
Looking in that direction they saw a group of Indians in the act of
pushing a heavy log far out into the stream with the aid of long poles.
Caught by the swift current, the log began to race down toward them and
in a short time it had sped past them on the far side of the rock.
Suddenly it wavered, swung around and then stopped beside their footing.
It was not until then that they discovered that there was a strong rope
of braided palm fiber attached to the log, the other end of which was
on shore and held by a large number of Indians. The latter made their
way down along the rocks, slowly and cautiously, until they were
directly opposite the rock.
The leader, now in deliberate pantomime, showed the plan that had been
worked out for the rescue of the white men. One of them was to tie the
rope around his body just below the arms and then jump into the river as
far as possible. The Indians would pull him ashore.
The question now came up as to who was to go first, each offering to
make the attempt that would test the feasibility of the scheme and the
strength of the rope; but the matter was quickly settled when David tore
one of the few remaining buttons off his clothes and flipped it as he
would a coin. He was the winner.
Miguel carefully adjusted the end of the rope around his companion’s
body and tied the knot securely across his chest. Then, at a signal from
the chief, David jumped as far as he could; at the same instant the
Indians holding the other end raced into the forest.
The moment the man struck the water he felt himself dragged against the
frightful current that whirled him over and over, drew him down into the
boiling depths and again tossed him up to the surface. The pull was so
great that it seemed he must be torn in two. The ordeal, however, lasted
but a short time. Before he was fully aware of what had happened strong
arms pulled him out of the water and placed him on his feet where he
stood sputtering and gasping but none the worse for his experience.
The rescuers immediately went upstream, sent out another log and rescued
Miguel in the same manner.
The two followed the Indians into the forest, where the latter started a
fire and proceeded to roast some game that they had apparently shot
earlier in the day. The brown men now paid no attention to their guests,
for such they were, and David and Miguel remained quietly on one side,
watching their actions.
Before long the meat was roasted and one of the Indians brought two
large, forest partridges to the strangers. Then they all sat down and
ate in silence.
Miguel knew a good deal of the customs of the Indians. He was sure that
there would be questionings and explanations later on. But first, the
law of hospitality required the providing of food.
After they had eaten the chief arose and motioned to the two to join his
group of warriors. He was of such splendid build and appearance that
David and Miguel could not suppress their look of admiration. The tops
of their own heads scarcely reached to the level of his shoulders.
Powerful muscles bulged under his brown skin. His head was round, with a
not unpleasant face. His eyes were large and black and straight hair
that had been cut evenly, hung in a thick mass to just below his ears.
They judged that his age was but a few years above their own.
“White men,” he said in an even, though deep voice, “why do you keep on
coming farther and farther into my country?”
The surprise of David and Miguel at hearing these words was second only
to that experienced when they had discovered they were not to be
attacked, for the man was addressing them in broken Portuguese they
could readily understand.
“We are lost,” David said when he had recovered sufficiently to speak,
“and were trying to get back to our camp when you found us.”
The Indian grunted, and there was a brief pause.
“Then go,” he said. “Your stomachs are full.”
“But,” Miguel explained, “we are still lost. We don’t know which way to
go.”
At this their rescuer gave them a look of contempt.
“Then you can stay here,” he said, with a shrug of his broad shoulders.
“You saved our lives,” David said, suddenly changing the subject, “and
we shall not forget that. Why did you do it? We were at your mercy.”
“You still are. But we savages, as you call us, never kill an unarmed
enemy except in revenge. But more than that, I respect the courage of
men who dare venture on the river. I saw you start and followed you down
to see what was left of you at the bottom of the fall.”
David then told the chief their experiences after boarding the raft; how
they had suddenly realized their danger and how, abandoning the lurching
craft, they had succeeded in swimming to the rock. As the Indian
listened, his eyes brightened with admiration.
“The white men do not know the ways of the forest,” he said, “therefore
they should keep out of it, because it belongs to us. You are lost! That
proves that we belong here and you do not. We never lose our way. You
come and you drive us farther and farther away from our homes and
plantations into the country of other tribes who kill us unless we kill
them. We fight you every step of the way and we win, too--but in the end
you win through your superior weapons and greater savagery. But we do
not stop fighting until the last man is dead.”
“Why don’t you make friends with the white men?” David asked. He was
feeling decidedly uncomfortable.
“They will not let us,” came the prompt response. “Pretending to be our
friends, they are our worst enemies. I know. I lived among them at the
rubber camps, long, long ago. When the white men come, no matter under
what excuse, the Indian loses and finally disappears. They praise us and
give us things of no value for which we always pay in hard labor, in
suffering and even with our lives. White men are savages; they know
better, but still they are most merciless of all.”
“You may be right,” David said thoughtfully. “I don’t know. We ought to
teach you things and help you----”
“No,” the Indian snapped angrily. “You should let us live our lives and
leave us alone.”
David thought it best not to press his point. “But we are your friends
and always will be,” he said calmly. “Come with us to our camp.”
“No, no!” the Indian exclaimed in horror. “They would kill us.”
“I assure you you will be as safe in our camp as we are with you; and
there are several things I want to give you to show our appreciation of
your friendship.”
This pleased the stalwart chief.
“We will go,” he said. “Tonight the remainder of my tribe will be here.
Then we will eat and sing and dance; tomorrow we will start on the
journey.”
“How far is it?” Miguel asked.
“Five settings of the sun, as we will walk slowly. There are many women
and children coming tonight and they cannot go fast.”
When the others arrived that night the white men were surprised at their
number. There were now over two hundred in the party. The women brought
food in baskets as well as deer, peccaries, monkeys and birds that had
been killed by the men and the feast that followed lasted far into the
night.
There was no delay, however, in getting under way the following morning.
Soon after the sun rose the encampment was astir. There was a hasty meal
and then the party formed for the march.
The chief started first, accompanied by David and Miguel, and carrying
only his bow and a number of arrows. At a distance of twenty paces in
back of him walked a woman with a heavy basket strapped to her back and
carrying two small children, while several larger ones trudged by her
side. At a distance of twenty paces behind her was another warrior
bearing only his weapons; then another heavily burdened woman followed
by another man; and so they alternated to the end of the line.
David thought the men were getting the best of the deal, but after
asking a few questions of the leader he was able to account for the
arrangement of the column on the march.
The men were the fighters and the hunters. Surrounded by enemies as each
tribe was at all times, the warrior must be instantly ready to repulse
an attack or to dispatch his opponent at first sight. As the hunters,
the men must be prepared to shoot any animal they encountered before it
could escape. Therefore, they must of necessity be free to use the bow
without the slightest delay.
In either case, quick action would be impossible if the men were
encumbered with burdens of any kind, for they would be unable to shoot
with any degree of accuracy until the impedimenta had been placed on the
ground. While doing this, the enemy would have ample time for the first
shots, or the animal would escape. That might mean disaster in the form
of death or starvation, so the arrangement was a wise one after all.
They tramped along at an easy gait, stopping at noon for a short rest.
No fires were built, but food from the baskets was distributed to the
children. During this interval most of the men strayed away a short
distance to hunt and before long their excited cries told that the chase
was on.
The shouts came nearer rapidly and just before the hunters came into
view the branches in the trees ahead of them began to sway and rustle.
David looked up and saw a troop of large, black monkeys fleeing for
their lives. He had never seen so many of the animals together at one
time. As they raced along and made flying leaps across the spaces that
separated the trees, shower after shower of arrows were sent after them
by their pursuers. There were the constant twanging of bows and the
whining of arrows in flight and now and then came a dull thud, after
which one of the frightened animals always leaped high into the air,
screamed, then fell to the ground with a crash. But the Indians did not
stop to recover it. They continued after the survivors in the treetops
and soon the chase had passed the resting place and the shouts grew
fainter in the distance.
It was fully an hour before the last of the hunters returned and the
victims had been collected. There were forty-three monkeys spread on the
ground and the chief assured the white men that not one had escaped; he
beamed with satisfaction, for he alone had accounted for five of the
animals.
“Tonight there will be meat for all and more,” he said. “Not in many
changes of the moon has there been such an abundance of this, the best
of all food.”
There was now a further delay while the women dressed the monkeys, after
which they packed them into their baskets. After that the column again
formed and got under way.
In this manner the party moved leisurely through the heavy forest, led
unerringly and without hesitation by their fearless leader. It was on
the fifth day that they had the first intimation that the end of the
trail was in sight.
“This looks familiar, somehow,” David said suddenly, as they reached a
large body of water in the heart of the forest. “I wonder if it could be
the----“. He checked his words abruptly.
“Yes,” Miguel continued for him. “It’s the lagoon. Right over there is
where the crocodile nearly got me. I wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been
for you.”
“And but for you, I wouldn’t be here. So we’re even. Let’s not mention
the subject again.”
Not long after that the men about the rubber camp had an unusual and
unforgettable experience. It was their first glimpse of the two
wanderers, long given up for lost, marching into camp on either side of
the giant Indian. They thought for a moment that the savage was their
captive, but when others appeared in the wake of the three they were
more mystified than ever.
CHAPTER XX
THE DRIFTING ENDS
Most surprised of all to see the large party of visitors was Dom Carlos.
At first he was at a loss as to how to express his feelings. The weeks
that had elapsed since David’s disappearance had brought him no end of
worry, for there was no doubt but that he would be held responsible. He
had delayed sending word of the disappearance to Las Palmas in the hope
that the missing man would show up. And now that he had arrived and was
safely in their midst, the old feeling of tyranny came back with
increased intensity.
“So you are back at last!” he said gruffly. “What excuse have you for
going away and staying so long without my permission? Don’t you know
that the collecting season is almost over and you have wasted your time?
You have accomplished nothing.”
David was taken aback by this reception.
“I was lost,” he returned. “I was never so eager to get anywhere as to
this place, but I couldn’t find the way.”
“And you, Miguel? You were lost, too, I suppose?” sarcastically.
“Yes, I was lost, too. The fever is to blame,” Miguel replied, while his
eyes snapped.
“You can tell that to the _patron_ when we get to the ranch. And what do
these savages want?”
“They asked for nothing. They saved us from the river and brought us
home. They are our friends and I invited them to come,” David said.
“Well, I’ll invite them to go now. I don’t want them here. Tell them to
go and to be quick about it.”
“No, they are not going until I can prove to them that there is at least
one _white_ man in the world,” David snapped with determination. “I’m
going to the storehouse for some presents for them.”
“You are?” The foreman feigned surprise. “And who is going to be
responsible? Your account is overdrawn now.”
“I’ll take care of that part, so don’t you worry. Rice said I could draw
anything I need and I am going to do it.”
“Look here,” and the burly foreman stepped forward to block his path.
“I’m the boss. You will give nothing to these savages and I will chase
them away.”
This speech angered David.
“They are my friends and they will be yours, too, if you let them. Think
of what it will mean to have them on your side instead of fighting
against you. It is the chance of a lifetime to make peace and you ought
to jump at it. Now, I am going to make good my promise to them.”
The foreman leaped toward David with a shout of rage. The latter was no
match for the big Brazilian, but he stood still waiting for the onrush
until a giant form stepped in front of him. It was the leader of the
Indians who stood like a statue between David and Dom Carlos.
This interference was too much for the foreman.
“I see he is your friend,” he panted, “and I will have nothing to do
with a savage. Go ahead, get the things. But remember, you will have to
account to the boss for this whole thing.”
David said nothing, but some of the men who were watching the encounter,
whispered among themselves. They had noted how ready their leader was to
attack a man smaller than himself and how quickly he stopped when the
giant Indian intervened.
“Come,” David said to the brown man. “Come with me. The others can wait
here.”
Together they went to the supply hut where the chief was invited to take
his choice of the articles in stock. He selected a number of knives,
hatchets and a few other objects he desired, after which David presented
him with several pounds of tobacco, which he appreciated more than the
other gifts.
The Indians prepared to take their departure soon after, but not until
the whole party had exchanged pledges of friendship with the Brazilians.
Instead of shaking hands upon leaving they patted one another on the
back, but when the chief came to Dom Carlos he walked haughtily past and
as he did so he placed an arrow, point up, in the ground at his feet.
That meant that he was an enemy of the Indians who would thereafter
attack him on sight.
Then the column formed and vanished in the forest.
That night David and Miguel had little time for sleep. The men crowded
about them and urged them to repeat again and again the story of their
adventures. It was all so strange, so seemingly impossible they could
not comprehend it fully, but they at no time doubted the narrative of
their companions.
“You got here just in time,” one of them said finally. “We start back in
a week or less.”
“To the ranch?” David asked eagerly.
“Yes. The rains are overdue. When they begin they will come hard. We’re
getting ready to leave now.”
“That sounds too good to be true. We can’t start too soon to suit me.”
The next day he saw what the preparations consisted of. The large balls
of rubber were being carried to the riverbank. Thick ropes were passed
through the holes in the center of the balls which had been left by the
poles on which the latex was poured while being smoked. The number on
the different strings varied, but when sufficient had been threaded the
ends of the rope were tied together, forming a huge “necklace.” These,
in turn, were pushed into the water, one within the other, so they
formed groups of concentric rings known as rubber rafts.
It required a number of days to complete all the arrangements. The men
packed their belongings and the utensils used by them in their work and
placed them aboard the launch. The Indians who had been engaged at the
camp had already taken their departure in canoes for their homes far up
the river. The camp began to take on a deserted appearance and it was
not difficult to picture what the place would look like a few weeks
hence, when the rising water would cover the site and sweep away the
huts and every vestige of human occupancy.
Not all of the men were to return to the ranch in the launch. About half
their number had been selected to follow the rubber rafts as they
floated down the river. When the start was made two men were sent in
each canoe; their duty was to drift with the raft by day and by night,
to guide it with poles into the proper channels, and to tie it up when
it reached its destination.
During the hours of daylight a flag was placed in the center ball; at
night a lantern took its place, making it easy for the men to follow the
raft in the darkness.
This work required experienced men, so David was not chosen to be one of
them. He went on the launch on the day following the departure of the
rubber fleet.
The first rain of the season was falling when the craft nosed her way
into the stream and the men were glad to leave the now gloomy
hinterland, for it would be many weeks before the sodden skies cleared,
except for brief intervals, and the place once more became habitable.
The trip down the river was without incident of note. Each day the rain
fell for longer periods until there were but infrequent lulls in the
heavy downpours. The nights, however, were almost invariably clear, but
within another month there would be no respite either day or night from
the roaring deluge.
The river rose rapidly, covering rocks and encroaching upon the forest;
soon it would assume the aspect of a vast, muddy lake and the picture of
heartrending desolation would be complete.
* * * * *
Rice was at the landing when the launch drew up and was made fast. David
had looked forward to a word of greeting, or at least a friendly glance,
and his disappointment was keen when he found himself treated with the
same indifference that characterized the owner’s attitude toward all the
men. His one concern seemed to be with the rubber crop and after asking
a few questions of Dom Carlos the two went into the office structure,
leaving the men to unload the launch.
David saw nothing more of his employer until several days later, when
the rubber rafts began to arrive. Then he remained at the waterfront
almost constantly, appraising and commenting on the season’s catch.
The cattle had to be brought from the outlying feeding-grounds with the
coming of the rains; a great part of the range would soon become
inundated. Also, there were numerous other things to be done, such as
branding the calves and counting and segregating the animals of
different ages and intended for different purposes.
David, of course, confidently expected that he would be permitted to
participate in this work. It was the thing for which he had come to the
ranch and in anticipation of which he had endured all the hardships and
discouragements that had been thrust into his path. But once again he
was disappointed.
One by one the men were selected for the round-up and sent on their
various missions. And when the last place had been filled, those who
remained were put to work weighing the rubber and marking it for
shipment.
David awaited a favorable opportunity to protest against this treatment
to Dom Carlos. The latter gave him a look of contempt.
“You’re lucky to be doing anything,” he said in reply. “When I told the
_patron_ all the things you are guilty of he came near sending you down
the river under guard. But he decided to let you work out your debt;
after that you’re going on the first launch that leaves.”
“If that’s the case I might as well leave right now,” David replied
hotly.
“Not until you’ve squared your account. You’ll work that out first, and
it will take a long time, too.”
David said nothing more, but quickly formed a plan of action. He would
venture to speak to Rice if there was a possible chance of doing so; if
not, he simply had to make the best of a very bad situation.
Soon the cattle began to arrive, in small groups and in droves that
numbered hundreds. They were a wild lot and David was surprised that
there were so many of them. As he watched the mounted herders, wielding
their ropes, riding frantically and shouting, he longed to be among
them. Instead, he carried the heavy balls of rubber to the weighing shed
and back again to the storehouse, after they had been weighed and
checked.
However, in the evenings, when the day’s hard labor was over, he visited
the corrals accompanied by Miguel and eagerly talked about the things he
would like to do and would do--elsewhere, if the opportunity did not
come at Las Palmas.
The more he thought of the matter, the more impatient he became. And
finally, unable longer to endure in silence, he decided to go to Rice to
settle the issue. Scarcely had he determined on this course than the
ranchman sent for him. He hastened to the office in response to the
summons, breathless with eagerness and anticipation.
A gruff “Enter” came in answer to his knock. He went in. Rice was at the
table, his back turned toward the door and he continued writing fully
five minutes longer before turning around. In the meantime, David’s
enthusiasm and ardor cooled considerably. He doubted now that he had
been called for a good purpose.
“Don’t say a word,” Rice greeted him swinging suddenly in his chair.
“Listen to what I say. I’ve heard all about everything, and I know just
where everybody stands.”
David had no idea what the man was talking about, but kept his mouth
shut. After a moment the ranchman continued:
“Somebody is going to have a surprise coming to him soon and it won’t
be a pleasant one either. What I mean is this. Cattle have been
disappearing. Two hundred yearlings are gone. They were stolen. Now,
that ought to be enough. Be mighty careful because we’ll find out the
guilty one and then----. That’s all. Get out.”
David was stunned by this information. At first he could not fully
comprehend the meaning of the words he had just heard. Cattle had been
stolen! Two hundred of them! What was the man driving at? Surely, he did
not suspect him of being guilty of the deed. Why should he do such a
thing? What could he do with the cattle even if he had taken them? These
and similar thoughts raced through his mind in a bewildering stream,
followed by bitter resentment that the subject had been mentioned to him
at all. He had not been accused directly, it is true; but there was the
insinuation of guilt or suspicion of it. His first impulse was to return
to Rice instantly and to tell him what he thought of the whole outfit
and then to leave, regardless of the consequences. He had succeeded in
getting there alone and unaided; he could go away in the same manner.
But after a moment’s consideration he decided to do nothing of the kind;
a better plan had suggested itself. He would catch the thief and thereby
clear his own name. Not until then would he be justified in leaving. To
go now might be interpreted as an admission of guilt.
That night he conversed long and seriously with Miguel. And the next day
the latter, who was supposed to be in the thick of the round-up but
whose absence was not missed in the excitement of the work, was far
away, engaged in another enterprise.
He reported fully to David that night, as they made their customary
visit to the corrals.
“I found it,” he said, so soon as they were out of hearing of the men in
the huts. “I know it’s the trail made by the missing cattle, because the
tracks are all the same size.”
David was inclined to be skeptical.
“If you could find it, why couldn’t the boss?” he asked. “He has been
looking all day for some clue that would lead him to the recovery of his
property.”
“He didn’t look in the right place. First, the cattle were driven
through the marsh so as to cover their trail. Then they went through
that wide patch of forest over there,” pointing to a black clump of
trees far in the distance, “and when they had passed through that they
were several kilometers away--far enough to make picking up their tracks
a difficult matter.”
“That’s great! What else did you find out?” David said.
“There was a strange man in the corrals this evening when I got back. He
was talking to Dom Carlos.”
“I wonder if he is still here!”
“No! He left a short while after I came and he rode through the marsh
and into the woods.”
“Good! That’s all we need to know.”
It was two days later that Miguel stole into the hut where David was
perspiring over his task in the middle of the afternoon. A new lot of
cattle had been driven into the corrals that morning.
“The stranger is here again,” he said, “and Dom Carlos is showing him
the pen of two-year-olds.”
“We’ll see tonight,” David returned; it was hard for him to restrain his
excitement. “Have two horses ready. Get them any way you can, but be
sure to have them. I’ll have the other things.”
Miguel returned to his work and David continued with his task; the hours
seemed like days.
It was dark when Miguel came to announce that the horses were waiting,
and the two lost no time in going to the place where they had been tied.
Soon the moon would rise and that would mean their discovery and the
spoiling of their plan, so there was need of haste.
The two rode slowly through the marsh, so as to make as little noise as
possible. A half hour later they emerged from the mire and entered the
clump of trees. By this time the moon had risen above the horizon and a
faint light penetrated through the treetops.
They had not gone far when a pair of dark forms appeared out of the
shadows and came toward them. The riders stopped and awaited the
approach of the two.
“Is everything all right?” the foremost asked. “Where are the animals?”
“They’re coming,” Miguel answered, as they dismounted leisurely. They
led their horses to a tree and tied them. Then they walked carelessly to
where the strangers were standing.
The next thing the latter knew they were facing two revolvers, the
muzzles of which were thrust against their chests.
“Put up your hands!” David commanded, and the order was obeyed in an
instant, so completely had the men been taken by surprise.
“Thanks!” David continued. “We’re not going to hurt you in the least,
that is, so long as you do what we say. But be careful; these guns are
so easy on the trigger they can’t stand the least little pull. Don’t
make me nervous or there might be an accident.”
As he spoke, Miguel and he had relieved the two astonished men of their
weapons.
“What do you want?” one of them asked in a trembling voice.
“You’re waiting for the cattle. They’re coming. One of you must go
through with the deal, as if nothing had happened. My companion will
guard the other of you while I substitute in his place to watch the
deal. That isn’t much to ask, is it?”
“This is the man I saw at the corral,” Miguel volunteered. “Let him meet
Carlos.”
“All right,” David returned. “Take the other one away, Miguel. Make him
turn around and keep your gun against his back. If he makes one
suspicious move--you know what to do; or, if I give the signal, shoot
him anyway. I’ll keep my eyes on this one.”
Miguel marched his prisoner into the shadows a short distance away.
“You may cross your arms now,” David addressed the man before him. “They
must be getting tired; but keep them crossed. What shall I call you?”
“Ramón.”
“All right, Ramón, when Carlos comes, conduct your business with him
just as if I were not here. Take the cattle and pay for them. But don’t
forget for one second that I am right here by your side. This gun in my
hand shoots quicker and straighter than any I ever saw; I can’t miss
with it.”
“I haven’t any money,” Ramón said in a surly voice.
“How do you pay for the cattle?”
“I just give a receipt for them. Then when I sell them down river, we
divide the money.”
“That’s a good system. It’s better than carrying a lot of money, because
somebody might rob you. Give Carlos the receipt.”
“What shall I say if he asks about you? He knows Lucas who was with me.”
“Tell him Lucas can’t be with you this evening, and that I am taking his
place. I’ll tie a handkerchief over my face so he won’t know me.”
“What are you going to do with us?” the man next asked.
“Well, that depends.” David was thoughtful. “If you don’t do everything
just as I told you to I’ll just let you lie here where you fall. If you
carry out your part, we’ll let you go. That will give you a whole
night’s start in the event anyone should want to go after you in the
morning. I’d advise you not to stop until you are out of the country and
never to come back again.”
Ramón seemed relieved.
“I’ll do just as you ordered,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worrying. That’s for you to do.”
It seemed but a few minutes before they heard the trampling of many feet
and soon the cattle began to drift into the forest. They moved slowly
and were a long time in passing, for their number was great.
At the end of the lines came Dom Carlos. David recognized him on sight,
even in the semi-darkness.
“Here they are,” he said, without dismounting. “Give me the receipt, and
see that you get a better price for these or you can’t have any more.
Hurry up. I’ve got to get back before I’m missed.”
The man handed Carlos a slip of paper which the latter scanned and then
carefully concealed in a little pocket under the holster of his
revolver.
He seemed about to depart. Then he looked up suddenly.
“Who’s that?” he asked sharply, pointing to David. “Where’s Lucas?”
David trembled in fear of what might happen, but Ramón played his part
well.
“Oh,” he said easily, “Lucas can’t be here tonight so this man is taking
his place. He’s all right, though.”
Carlos said no more but turned and galloped away.
Miguel brought out his prisoner after a short wait and then they told
the men to get on their horses and leave as fast as they could, which
order they were not long in carrying out.
“Here, Miguel,” David said, when the clatter of the hoofs of the two
fleeing horses had died in the distance, “you can take this gun, too.
That makes two for you. I thought it best not to give them back to the
thieves and as I have one of my own I don’t need another.” Then he added
with a chuckle, “that will make up for your having to use a pill bottle
tonight. Honestly, I tried hard to borrow or steal one for you to use,
but I couldn’t.”
“Thanks,” Miguel said with beaming eyes. “I was scared to death the man
would see I had a bottle and not a gun.”
“That’s why I told him to turn his back--so he couldn’t see.”
In accordance with their plan, Miguel remained to watch the cattle while
David mounted and rode to camp.
The place was in a fever of activity when he arrived. Several of the men
ran out to meet him and from their excited chatter he gathered several
things.
Rice had suspected trouble and had made a personal inspection of the
corrals soon after dark. The pens of the two-year-olds had been found
empty. Worst of all, there were no tracks to tell in which direction the
animals had gone.
“He thinks you took them,” one of the men ventured, half-fearfully, “you
and Miguel, because you had taken horses and were missing.”
David said nothing, but rode to the office structure and, without
knocking, entered. Rice was alone, at the table as usual, his head
propped up in his hands. Several kerosene lamps lighted up the room.
David waited a moment, but as the man did not look up he strode quickly
to his side.
“Mr. Rice,” he said quietly, “I know you don’t like me and you don’t
want me here, and I’m not going to bother you much longer. But what you
said to me the last time was too much. I can’t stand that. I couldn’t go
after you had all but called me a thief until I could prove the facts. I
can do that now and I’m leaving tomorrow morning. I got here alone and I
can get back the same way.”
Rice had jumped to his feet at the first words and stood looking at
David. He had undergone a remarkable change. His face was drawn and
there was a pathetic expression in his eyes. When he spoke his voice was
almost plaintive.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “Sit down and let’s talk things over.”
“No, thank you,” David replied. “I’ve become used to standing on my
feet. You saw to it that I did. But what I came to see you about was
that cattle proposition. More have been stolen tonight. The mozos met me
with the information that Miguel and I are suspected of their theft
because we could not be located in the ranch. Were we the only ones away
at the time?”
“Please.” Rice’s voice was pleading now. “You don’t understand; but you
will soon.”
“Yes, and if I may say it, you too will understand very soon.”
“Yes,” Rice continued, “Carlos was gone also. They said he had gone to
chase the thieves.”
“And do you believe that?”
The subject of the conversation entered at that moment.
“I chased them many kilometers,” he said, wiping the perspiration from
his face, “but they escaped. I must have killed or at least wounded some
of them, because I shot at them each time I got near enough.”
David appeared elated.
“I would consider it an honor to clean the revolver of such a brave
man,” he said quickly. “The barrel must be all fouled. Please, may I?”
Dom Carlos scowled as he hesitated.
“Let him do it.” It was Rice who spoke, as if indulgently. “A man with
courage such as yours should have a servant.”
The foreman smiled at this compliment. And, besides, here was another
opportunity to humiliate David.
He carelessly removed the revolver from the holster and laid it on the
table. David had it in an instant.
“Now take off the belt and give it to the boss,” he commanded, levelling
the weapon at the foreman, “and do it right away.”
The latter flew into a rage.
“Are you going to let this _mozo_ insult and threaten me like that?” he
asked.
“Go on, Carlos. Take it off.” It was Rice who spoke. “Better humor him;
he has us at a disadvantage.”
At this the foreman was too startled to make a reply. He began to
understand the turn affairs were taking. His arms hung limply. He was
about to collapse.
“I’ll take it off for you, then,” David said.
He handed the belt to Rice.
“Look into the little pocket under the holster and you will know who
stole your cattle.”
Rice obeyed mechanically, with trembling fingers, and found not one but
two pieces of paper.
“I see,” he said; “receipts for both lots of cattle that disappeared.
Carlos, what have you to say?”
But the man was incapable of speech. He had slumped, moaning, to the
floor. Several of the men, coming at Rice’s call, removed him to an
inner room and remained to guard him.
David now told the whole story of what had occurred, ending with,
“Miguel is staying with the cattle until you send someone to help him
round them up and bring them back. I’m going to pack my things now, so I
can start early in the morning.”
He turned to go, but Rice grasped his arm and held him fast.
“No!” he said in a strained voice. “I don’t blame you for wanting to get
away from here, and after what you’ve gone through I have no right to
ask you to stay to endure more of it. But don’t leave--tomorrow morning.
Wait a few days longer. There will be a launch then.”
“I can go alone, as I came. The one comforting thought I can take with
me from Las Palmas is that I didn’t trouble anyone, and I can’t start
doing that now.”
“I want to see you in the morning.” Again Rice was pleading. “Promise
that you’ll stay just one more day. I have something to say to you.”
And David promptly showed his fine character by agreeing to the request.
“I am expecting the launch from Manaos any hour now,” Rice said the next
morning, after warmly greeting David. “It will bring a surprise for
you.”
“Mail!” David exclaimed enthusiastically. “It has been so long since I
had a letter from home.”
“There may be letters, but I was thinking of something else. It will
bring something--someone, I should say----”
“You don’t mean that my--my--” David gasped.
“Yes, your father is coming.”
The listener was so overcome at this news that he was speechless. He
grasped a chair for support.
“And now I am going to tell you the whole story,” Rice continued. “Your
father wrote me before you came that he wanted this to be your last
change. He asked me to make things so bad, so trying, so disagreeable,
that only the strongest faith in yourself could carry you through. I was
either to make or break you. I did what I considered was proper and the
men were given their instructions. Some things went too far; I know
that, because I have questioned each one and I learned the truth. Carlos
abused my confidence and you because in you he saw a possible rival. I
was misled by him or I should not have entrusted you to his care.”
“How about accusing me of stealing the cattle?” David was on the point
of tears.
“If you will think back you will remember that I did not accuse you. I
simply wanted to put you on your mettle. I firmly believed you could
catch the thief; I couldn’t, and you don’t know how hard I tried. I
never even suspected Carlos. That was the last test and I had to make it
so strong that when you came through it there would be no further
possible question in my mind as to your character and ability. Boy, boy,
you’ve made good a million times over and I wish I could keep you here
always. I would trust you with anything; you would find a way out of
every difficulty.”
“Do you want me to stay?” David asked, as in a dream.
“Yes, because then I could honestly feel that there was one person on
the place worthy of my confidence.”
“Let me see.” David was bewildered. “I must have time to think.”
He rose to go.
“Have your things moved over here,” Rice said as he started away. “You
are to live with me hereafter.”
David, however, preferred to remain with the men until he knew
definitely what the future held in store for him. He went back to his
quarters and there he found Miguel.
“You are going?” the latter asked anxiously.
“I don’t know,” David replied. “But I know now what you wanted to tell
me. I suspected it at times, but then things got so bad I thought I
must be mistaken. Dom Carlos was to blame.”
“I’m glad you know. Carlos was always urging me to cause you trouble.
And then, after you knocked me down in front of the others, I became
angry and was in earnest. I’m sorry.”
“Never mind. It’s all over. You’re my best friend and I want you to keep
that place.”
The launch came the next afternoon, and after the lengthy, joyous
greetings were over, Rice, father and son settled down to a serious
discussion of the future.
“You know,” the elder David said with great animation, “you have
converted me entirely. You have opened my eyes. I am not asking you to
come back to the city to live. On the contrary, I discovered that there
are thousands of acres of the best land on earth lying idle right in our
own country. I did not know it before, because living in the cramped
city made me blind and narrow to the beauty and possibilities of the
great outdoors. We are all going away from the dust and the grime of the
crowded metropolis. We, too, want to see the blue sky overhead and feel
the green grass under our feet. What do you say? I will get as much land
as you want and put you in full control.”
“That’s too wonderful to be true.” David spoke softly. “We can talk it
over and decide just how much we need and where it must be. But Mr. Rice
has asked me to stay, and to tell the truth I haven’t even started yet
to learn. You can get the land and hold it, because so far I’m not
capable of taking charge of anything. I’ve been drifting from one thing
to another, neither doing nor learning anything of consequence. So I
must stay until the purpose for which I came is accomplished. When I am
sure enough of myself to drop my anchor I’ll come back to you, and then
we can begin the real life and the only one that’s worth while.”
THE END
Typographical errors corrected by the etext transcriber:
I am sorrry, but Wellman=> I am sorry, but Wellman {pg 5}
Para=> Pará {pg 30 x 3}
He approached cautionsly=> He approached cautiously {pg 211}
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